


He Among Us Without Sin

by charantonia



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam/Shiro (Voltron) Angst, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Angels and Demons, Angst with a Happy Ending, Capital Punishment, Christianity, Druids, Familiars, Fictional Religion & Theology, Goddesses, Heavy Angst, Human Allura (Voltron), I Meant Adam/Shiro Slow Burn, I Use Some Real Influences But Basically I'm Making Shit Up As I Go, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance And Keith Get Right In There, M/M, Magic is Real, Minor Character Death, Now When I Said Slow Burn, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pagan Gods, Paganism, Period-Typical Homophobia, Protective Adam (Voltron), Queen Allura (Voltron), Rating May Change, Religious Conflict, Religious Content, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Slow Burn, Warnings May Change, Witch Adam (Voltron), Witch Hunter Keith (Voltron), Witch Hunter Shiro (Voltron), Witch Hunters, Witch Hunts, Witch Lance (Voltron), Witchcraft, Witches, vaguely
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:30:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 57,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charantonia/pseuds/charantonia
Summary: "There wasn’t a doubt in Lance’s mind when he’d realized he wasn’t normal. The incident stuck in his mind, burned into his brain so deep he could never forget it. For the first 5 years of his life, he’d thought he was normal. He thought the way his veins thrummed under his tan skin was typical, he thought the way his palms glowed when he swam was just a thing people had. He’d never asked because he’s assumed his experiences were universal. But they weren’t."Lance and Adam are witches. Keith and Shiro are witch hunters. It's not an ideal situation for anyone, really.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> It is Sunday, and I am posting, but it is not My Pretty Face and Your Electric Soul. Have you ever gotten an idea for a fic that will not leave you alone, no matter how hard you try and force it out of your brain. Well, this is that fic. The idea of witches and witch hunters never fails to rev my engines, so I wrote almost 30 pages of witchy shit. And good God, am I happy to be starting this fic. There is a lot of setting up the story in the first few chapters- I am very serious when I say SLOW BURN -so be prepared for that. That being said, this religion that Adam and Lance fall under is complete bullshit. I basically took like, 4 different religions and combined them into one. Same goes for Shiro and Keith; a hodgepodge of different religions to make my Frankenstein's monster of a religion. That being said, there is a LOT of religion in this, with it being the medieval era and all, so be warned! If that isn't your thing, bow out now. This is going to be an absolute MONSTER of a fic, so strap in for the long haul. If lots of plot, backstory and bullshit religion is your thing; welcome aboard and I hope you enjoy the ride!
> 
> (And if you're here because you're wondering where the update for My Pretty Face and Your Electric Soul is, it's coming on Wednesday I'm sorry I love you)
> 
> Also, I am Wiccan so like there's a lot of Wiccan influences in there. Just saying.

_[Lance]_

There wasn’t a time when Lance didn’t feel the literal power coursing through his veins. Even when he was a child, he knew he wasn’t like the rest of his family. They were all normal, hardworking farmers with skin leathered from the sun and hands calloused so deep, it was like a second skin. He had a big family, with mama, papa, and four siblings. And they were all good, good people. Lance loved his family more than anything, clinging to his mother’s side as a child while she collected eggs, and darting around his older brother’s legs as he milked the cows. Sure, they were weatherworn and of the peasant class, but they made their farm _home_ , making the piece of land they’d carved out in the countryside feel like paradise. His family was normal.

He was not.

There wasn’t a doubt in Lance’s mind when he’d realized he wasn’t normal. The incident stuck in his mind, burned into his brain so deep he could never forget it. For the first 5 years of his life, he’d thought he _was_ normal. He thought the way his veins thrummed under his tan skin was typical, he thought the way his palms glowed when he swam was just a thing people had. He’d never asked because he’s assumed his experiences were universal. But they weren’t.

It had been an autumn day, the air cool as the seasons prepared to change. Autumn always made Lance a little sad, because summer was his favorite season. His favorite plants were in bloom, he could swim as much as he wanted, and the stray animals that he fed were always up to play. So he walked with resignation next to his brother, Marco, as they headed to the barn. His sibling ruffled his hair.

“What’s the matter, hermano? I thought you wanted to see Kaltenecker?” He asked, pulling the door to their barn open.

“I do,” Lance sighed, using his stubby legs to step up into the barn. His brothers swore one day, he’d be tall like them. He was still on the fence. “I just miss summer.”

“I know you do, but the world has to keep moving on,” Marco mused, clicking at their horses as they passed them. “Summer will be back again before you know it.”

“And we can eat cherries and albaricoques, and go swimming?” He asked excitedly, making Marco laugh and pat his head.

“Of course we can.”

They came to the last stall, where their cow was bawling forlornly. Marco furrowed his brows and shushed her, stroking her nose slowly.

“Hey, hey, easy girl. What’s the matter?” He asked, letting her go and opening her pen. “Oh… h-hey, hermano, why don’t you head back to the house?”

“Why? What’s the matter?” Curious, the five-year-old poked his head into the cow’s pen. Laying on the straw was her baby, who, Lance had affectionately named Kalternecker. She was limp, not breathing, her eyes shut. Dead. “Marco, what happened to her?”

The mother let out a pained cry, going over and nudging her sow with her nose. Lance could almost feel her pain, it was as if he could hear her begging her baby to wake up. Tears spilled down his cheeks, almost involuntarily. Marco rubbed his back.

“She died, hermano. I’m sorry you had to see this, I know you liked her,” He sighed, running a hand down his face. “Esperar, I have to go get Luis and Papa so we can move her. Don’t go into the pen, alright? She’s in mourning, and it’s going to be hell getting the body away from her anyway.”

Marco turned and left the barn, muttering under his breath the whole way. Lance watched as the mama cow licked Kalternecker’s face, braying softly at her to try and wake her. His tears continued flowing, his vein pulsating with every wave. Looking down, he saw his palms glowing. Was he supposed to… do something? Tentatively, he took a step into the pen, speaking out to the mama cow.

“It’s… it’s okay, la chica. I want to help your baby,” He explained, watching as blue light ran up his arms, glowing underneath his skin. The cow looked at him and brayed, taking strong steps towards him. Holding up a hand, he rested it on her nose. He closed his eyes, feeling her strong, angry breaths puffing against his cheeks, blowing locks of his hair from his face. Swallowing nervously, he repeated himself. “I want to help your baby.”

The breaths slowed, and he felt the nose move away from him. Opening his eyes, he saw the cow laying at the entrance of the pen, guarding him. She looked at him with big, sad eyes, and another wave of tears flowed forth. But she understood. She _trusted_ him. He gave her a small nod, walking to Kalternecker’s body.

The poor girl was bony when Lance touched her, her ribs sticking up against her skin. She was stiff. Kneeling, Lance pressed his forehead to hers.

“Hola, Kalternecker,” He whispered. “Do you remember me? It’s Lance… I was there when you were born. I helped mama and Veronica. And I come and brush you, and let you lay with me when you and your mama are out for walks. I named you, remember? Kaltenecker. And Luis told me it was a stupid name, but you always come to me when I call you that, so we kept it. I want to help you, Kaltenecker. Can I help you?”

Behind him, he could hear his brothers and papa enter the barn. He pulled his head back from his friend and rested his hands on her chest, where he knew her heart was. Something inside him whispered to close his eyes, and he did, focusing on his breathing.

“Chica, _move_ so we can get in,” He heard Luis say, followed by, “Wait, Lance? What are you doing in there?”

“Lance!” Marco sounded worried. “Get out, I told you, she’s in mourning, she could kill you for touching her baby-”

“Niño,” His papa’s voice was stern. “I know you liked Kalternecker, but I need you to get out before she does something to you!”

Lance tuned them out, remembering how his arms glowed with blue light, how the mother had let him close to Kaltnernecker. He needed to help her. He wasn’t just going to sit there and let her mother cry. Losing a child was something devastating, he knew. He was supposed to have a younger sister. And he was too little, too young to do anything then; so he could help now.

He pictured Kaltenecker, her big brown eyes, and her sweet moo. The way she would nudge at Lance’s hand for pets, and how she stuck to him whenever they ran around in the fields together. His body felt warm, burning to the touch, and he could feel that warmth pushing through him, from his chest, through his arms, and into his hands. Opening his mouth, he whispered to the calf.

“It’s time to get up, Kaltenecker.”

Below him, there was a soft moo.

Lance opened his eyes to see the calf doing the same, calling out for her mother. Standing, the weary child moved out of the way of the overjoyed mother, braying and licking at her calf. Kaltenecker struggled to her feet and nuzzled her mother, looking at Lance with her sweet brown eyes. She brayed softly and his tears finally stopped, his hands no longer glowing, the thrumming in his veins a dull pulse once again. He turned to face his family, who looked at him with varying degrees of shock, horror, and bewilderment.

“Holy fuck,” Luis whispered.

Swaying on his feet, Lance couldn’t even speak before his eyes slid shut, and he was falling.

* * *

Lance awoke in his bed, hearing whispers from the kitchen. It was dark out, and his stomach rumbled, leading him to believe he’d slept through the whole day. His mind was fuzzy, tired eyes wanting to slip closed again. Had it all been a dream? Was his saving of Kaltenecker just the musings of a child’s mind? Slowly, he sat up, looking around the room. His siblings were all asleep as well, all spread out across their shared room. Slipping out of bed, he padded to the door and pressed his ear against it, listening to his parent’s frantic whispers.

“I know what I saw, Rosa,” His father's deep baritone filled the air. “The calf was dead, and now it’s not. Marco swears it too, and even Lance _himself_ said it was dead. There was no trick of the eyes or false memory. The boy isn’t right.”

“ _The boy_ is still our son, Estabán,” His mother sounded like she was pleading. “Whatever you saw doesn’t change that. I gave birth to him, the same as I did Luis, Veronica, Marco, and Rachel. Whatever happened in the barn, we are still going to love and provide for him.”

“I don’t know. What if he does something like that again, only it’s bigger? What if he hurts someone, Rosa? Do you want that on your conscience?”

“You know just as well as I do that Lance would _never_ hurt anyone,” The harshness of his mother’s tone made him flinch. “He is just a boy, Estabán. Barely five, he’s probably just as confused and frightened as we are. I can’t… I can’t imagine how scared he must be. He’s never shown any signs of, of possession or a… _curse_ … he must be terrified.”

The child looked at his hands. Should he be afraid? This… power, this constant presence within him wasn’t normal. No one else felt this way. He was different. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes ran over his siblings. The dreams he’d had, where pink light glowed under Rachel’s skin as they worked together in the gardens, would never be real. Luis would never wave orange hands around and create fire to impress Lance. Marco would never illuminate the kitchen with yellow light as they snuck midnight snacks. He wasn’t like them.

“Still. I’m calling the vicar. If anyone knows what to do… the church will,” His father sighed and a chair scooted across the floor. “I’d better go check and be sure he’s still sleeping.”

“Let me,” His mother said. “I… I want to see if he… looks different.”

Quickly, Lance scrambled back to his bed and ducked under the covers, pulling them up to his chin. His eyes closed tight as the door opened, and candlelight glowed in the room. Rosa crossed to his bed, the sound of her bare feet on the floor deafening in the almost silent room. The bed dipped as she sat and he felt a hand on his forehead. He hoped he didn’t look different, he prayed his mama still recognized him. It wasn’t like he felt different, the power, the thrumming; everything was the same. But somehow, it wasn’t. Not at all.

Lips touched his forehead and his mama whispered to him.

“You’re still my little boy. I don’t care what your papa says. Whatever you did… whatever you _are_ , I still love you,” She told him, a tear falling from her eye onto his cheek. He resisted the urge to wipe it away until after she’d left. He opened his eyes and looked at his hands.

 _Whatever you are_.

What… was he?

* * *

The vicar came three days later. Lance was laid out under a tree, Kalternecker’s head in his lap when the carriage approached. Two dark brown horses led a black buggy, with curtains covering the windows. A cross was staked on top of the cart, and Lance felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine. Kalternecker mooed and he kissed her head, watching as his father emerged from the house, his mother right beside. The footman opened the door and a man stepped down, wearing a deep grey suit, a golden cross glinting on his neck. He kept his back to Lance while his parents spoke animatedly, pointing across the field at the boy. The vicar turned and Lance saw his face, instantly shrinking back on himself. His veins roared underneath his skin.

His pale skin bore many scars, crisscrossed on his face. Squinting his eyes, he sneered at the boy before speaking to his parents, who led him to the house. Lance could feel his blood rushing, so loud it sounded like an ocean in his ears. His mind wanted him to run, stand and take off for the mountains. But the last time he’d listened to his mind, he’d passed out. Instead, he watched the backdoor open and Veronica exit.

Veronica.

They’d sent his 7-year-old sister out, the one closest to his age. His parents knew he’d listen to her.

“Mama says come in,” She said, sitting down next to him. “And for us to stay out.”

“Is it because of the vicar?” He asked, his voice shaking a little. Something in him was telling him not to go, that it was a bad idea to go into the house right now. Veronica shrugged.

“I guess so. They said you needed to talk to him about something serious, but that was it,” She nudged him with her arm. “I’ll stay here with Kalternecker. Go. You know mama doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

Lance’s legs felt like lead when he stood, and he crossed the lawn with a pit in his gut. His arms felt like they were on _fire_ , blue light pulsating in a rapid pace under his skin. A shaking hand gripped the doorknob and he opened the backdoor, stepping into the kitchen.

And everything stopped.

The room was stifling, feeling like all the air had been sucked out. His veins were at a standstill, no light or movement within them. His mother looked up at him from the dining table and gave him a smile.

“Lance, sit down. This is Vicar Macidus,” She introduced them as Lance followed her order. Up close, the man was even scarier, with stony grey eyes and a permanent scowl on his face. A bible laid in the center of the table, and Lance’s eyes flicked to it. The vicar noticed.

“Lance, your parents called me here because they’re very concerned about something that happened a few days ago. Something about a… cow?” He asked, looking to Lance’s papa, who nodded.

“A calf, specifically.”

Cold eyes drug back over to Lance and the vicar sipped the tea his mama had prepared.

“And, what happened with the calf, Lance? I want to hear your side of the story,” He prompted.

The child looked at his parents. He didn’t know what to say? Should he tell the truth? Obviously what he’d done wasn’t normal, but did that mean he had done something wrong? Was the vicar here because he needed to repent? He wrung his hands under the table, feeling weak without the movement in his veins. It felt wrong, he felt wrong. Looking up, his eyes stayed focused on the bible before him. He had to tell the truth. If he’d done something wrong, he needed to repent, like papa always did.

“I helped her,” He said softly.

“And how did you help her, exactly?”

“She was dead,” He whispered, swallowing hard. “And I brought her back to life.”

The room was silent, the air tense with disbelief. The vicar looked to his parents, setting down one of the only good teacups they owned. Leaning forward, he caught Lance’s chin, making the child look at him. His face looked evil. Lance shuddered.

“Young man, making claims that you brought something back to life is not only blasphemous, it is treason,” He explained slowly. “Should I find that you’re lying about this, you will be brought into the kingdom, to the grand church, to repent. And there, you will live out your life in servitude as an altar boy.”

“And if he’s telling the truth?” His father prompted from his seat.

“He’ll be hanged.”

Lance gasped roughly as his mother stood.

“ _Hanged_? He’s a child, he’s barely even five!” She shouted, his father right alongside her.

“Now I can accept his life as an altar boy, but hanging? He’s just a kid, shouldn’t you show a little mercy-”

“There is no mercy for practitioners of witchcraft,” Macidus cut them off, slamming his hand down on his bible. Nervousness wormed its way up Lance’s throat, like an animal clawing at his insides. “Men and women among you who act as mediums or who consult the spirits of the dead must be put to death by stoning. They are guilty of a capital offense.” He looked over Lance with a scathing gaze. “Be lucky we don’t stone him.”

“But he’s a _child_! Surely this must be possession, or, or some sort of curse!” His mother begged as the vicar wrenched Lance from his chair, making the boy cry out in pain. “Lance!”

“Hold your tongue, woman.” He spat at Lance’s mother, pushing the child towards the door. “Show me this calf, boy.”

“Please, have mercy on him,” She begged, hanging onto the vicar’s arm. Lance watched as he wrenched his arm away, shoving his mama back a few steps. “Please, don’t!-”

“Be quiet!”

Lance heard the slap before he saw it. The noise echoed in their small kitchen and his mama stumbled, holding her cheek. The vicar’s chest heaved and all Lance could see was how big he was in comparison to his small mother. His small, kind mother, who’s hugs could stop even the hardest of tears, who’s laugh felt like the first warm day after a long winter. A sob left her throat and Macidus turned back to Lance. Pure evil. That’s what he was.

A pain shot through him and he gasped as his arms glowed, brighter than they had when he’d helped Kaltenecker. How dare this, this, _thing_ harm his mama? This phony “worker of the lord”. Looking up at him, he saw the man’s face change from anger to confusion.

“What-”

“Don’t you ever,” Raising his hand, he pointed it Macidus. “Touch my mama!”

The vicar flew back and crashed into the wall, his father shouting. His mother rushed to him and took him into her arms, using her body to shield his as his father helped Macidus to his feet. Rage made him shake, an accusing finger pointed at the child.

“Hellspawn,” He spat, crossing the room to Lance. “You will be hanged tomorrow, at dusk. Say your last goodbyes tonight, child. I’ll collect you in the morning.”

The house shook with how hard the door slammed. Lance’s mama wept, holding his head and whispering soft words to him. He couldn’t look away from his father, though. How his well-worn face looked tired, exhausted even. Brown eyes met his and his mustache twitched, making the child look away in shame.

“Lance… how long have you… had this? This… power?”

He couldn’t answer.

* * *

The morning was somber. His mother made his favorite breakfast, but he picked at it. It would be his last meal on Earth, with his family. Before they watched him die. He couldn’t believe that this, that _helping_ had caused all of this. He would have been better off just leaving Kaltenecker dead. But his mind told him no, she was better alive, and he’d been good. Shaking his head, he looked at his family. How could any of _this_ be good? His mama cried into her apron, unconsolable by her father. Veronica hadn’t left bed, and Rachel had stayed with her. Marco had hugged him for almost an hour, and even Luis couldn’t crack a smile.

_How was any of this good?_

The sun came up as it always did and there was a knock on the door. His mama knelt to his level, eyes red and rimmed, and fixed his shirt. She’d dressed him in his best, wanting him to have dignity. He was pulled into a bone-crushing hug, and she kissed his ear.

“Remember hijo mío, never let them see you cry.” She whispered.

He felt like crying.

His papa opened the door and the vicar entered, holding a small pair of handcuffs. They made Lance wonder how many other children had died, been taken to hang at the hands of the church. It made him scowl. How was any of this fair, or right? How could people serve a God that would send children to hang? His hands were bound behind him and he was pushed forward.

“Move.”

Walking out of his home, he was placed on the back of the carriage, by the footman. His family walked behind them, speaking softly to him to try and calm him. Nothing could calm him. His veins roared and his hands glowed. His father wouldn’t look away from the blue light. Lance instead watched the sky.

When trees began to cover his vision, his mind got loud, shouting at him that he would be okay. He wished he could tune it out, whatever it was that was talking to him. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on that stupid voice, wanting it to just _shut up_ already!

One of the horses whinnied and the carriage jostled, coming to an abrupt halt, sending Lance tumbling onto the dirt. The driver shouted as Luis helped the little boy to his feet.

“What is the meaning of this?-”

“Poppy, yar, and brisbane steep, to make a spell for potent sleep,” A voice cut them off. Teal encapsulated the carriage and the footman slumped forward, falling onto the top of the carriage. Nothing moved. Macidus didn’t step out of the carriage to grab Lance and shove him back onto his seat. Looking around the carriage, even the horses were tame, eyes shut in sleep.

“Lance,” Luis whispered. “Did you do this?”

“N-No!” He insisted, looking at his family. “I didn’t do anything!”

“He’s right, he didn’t.”

Leaning against the side of the carriage was a man; or, kind of. He looked young, probably only 13, as old as Luis. Thin glasses sat against tan skin and he wore a cloak of green, it brushing the forest floor. Brown pants tucked into brown boots and he wore a white shirt, arms crossed over his chest. But most importantly, his arms were glowing a soft teal. It permeated from under his skin, through his clothes. _He was like Lance_.

“You were right, Hyacinth,” He said, speaking up to the trees and holding his arm out. From above, a white and grey owl swooped down, settling on the boy’s arm. It turned it’s head and cooed at Lance. “This was the right party.”

“Who, who are you?” Lance’s papa asked, voice only slightly trembling. “What do you want from us?”

“My name is Adam, and for the sake of your son, that’s all you need to know about me,” He let the owl- Hyacinth -walk up his arm and perch on his shoulder. “I heard about your son in town. They were all very excited to see a witch hang and, well, call me a downer, but a funeral for a five-year-old doesn’t sound like my thing.”

“So why are you here?” Luis asked, a protective hand on Lance’s shoulder. Adam looked down at him and shook his head.

“Sorry kiddo, let me get those off of you,” He held his hand out to Lance. “Power be bound, your negativity will no longer come my way. From henceforth, you are banished.”

The cuffs disintegrated, and Lance rolled his wrists a few times. “Thank you.”

“Now, I’m here to tell you that your son isn’t the only witch out here,” Adam explained. “And I wasn’t about to let another be hanged.”

“There are… more witches?” His mama asked, and Adam nodded.

“There are. And I’m one,” He walked over to Lance and bent down to his level. “You aren’t alone, kiddo. I want to help you.”

It felt familiar. The comforting of a worried mother. The soft words spoken on a level no one else could hear. Adam held his hand up to Lance, palm glowing. Slowly, he raised his own hand, shocked to see how strong his light was. He pressed his small hand to Adam’s large one and gasped, his mind being flooded with images.

He saw himself outside of a cottage, helping plants grow from the dirt, Adam’s hand on his shoulder. The green grass swayed as a small, white blossom emerged, and Adam squeezed him. Then it was autumn, and Lance stood over a cauldron, taller, reciting words he couldn’t hear. Adam sat in the corner, Hyacinth on his shoulder, smiling as the cauldron bubbled and churned. It was winter. Lance sat on a tree branch, balancing a small flame between his palms. The sun was going down, and he could hear something telling him to look up. A black cat sat at his feet, eyes blue and piercing. It opened its mouth and Lance heard it, that voice he’d been hearing in his brain this whole time.

_“Go.”_

Jerking his hand back, he looked at Adam, who had a knowing smile on his face. He’d saved him because… the child looked up at Hyacinth, who cooed softly once more. The taller boy stood and addressed Lance’s family.

“It’s too dangerous for Lance to stay with non-witches. For both you and him,” He explained. “Rumor around town is that a new breed of witch hunters are coming, ones that can feel our energy. If he stays around you, you all could be collateral damage. Hunters don’t care who gets in their way; if you have witch energy on you, then you could become a target.”

“What can we do?” His mama asked.

“Lance needs to come live with me. I’ll train him, help him harness his powers to better serve the Goddesses and God.” He told them, holding up his hand when they tried to argue. “I’m not asking. I have a home, protected from witch hunters and the clergy. He’ll be safer with me than he would be with anyone else.”

“What about his family?” Luis argued.

“If I hadn’t stopped this caravan today, he’d be dead,” Adam said, voice cutting. His family fell silent. “I won’t be taking him far. He’ll be a day’s walk away from you, and I’ll let you come visit once his powers are better controlled. It’s better this way. I know you have no reason to trust me, but Lance can tell you himself; I’m not out to hurt him.”

All eyes went to the child, who looked up at Adam. His kind golden eyes and tender teal glow made Lance trust him. He knew what he was doing; he was able to stop an entire caravan by himself. If anyone could help him, could explain this… it was Adam. Looking to his family, Lance nodded.

“He’s telling the truth. I have to go with him,” He whispered. “I’ll miss you all… but it’s better to be somewhere else and alive than dead.”

His papa winced at that. Lance figured he deserved it, for giving in to the vicar so easily. Marco sighed and ruffled his hair.

“We’re going to miss you, hermano,” He admitted. “The farm won’t be the same without you.”

His family said their goodbyes, holding him tight and whispering promises to come visit him. When his mama bent down, she took his hands, undeterred by their soft glow. She pressed a kiss to each of his palms.

“Go with God, hijo. And know your mama loves you more than anything,” Launching himself at her, Lance let her pull him into a tight embrace, tears falling down his cheeks. Adam cleared his throat.

“I’ll use a forgetting spell on the caravan. Luckily, no one in town knew Lance’s name, so they won’t ask about him when they arrive empty-handed. Even the vicar himself won’t remember the encounter,” He explained. “The sleeping spell should wear off in an hour. You all should be home by then, and we’ll be gone.”

Turning to the carriage, Adam held up his hands. Hyacinth cawed.

“Bit by bit your mind shall fade, it shall disappear, replaced by constant fear. Day by day this is as I say. All memories of Lance shall disappear into a forgotten bay. So mote it be.” Another blast of teal settled over the carriage and Adam turned to Lance, holding his hand down to him. “We need to go.”

The child looked back at his family one last time. He couldn’t, not in his right mind, stay with them if it was going to bring them harm. No one would remember this, the day he was supposed to die, except his family, Adam, and Lance himself. He had to disappear. Taking the older boy’s hand, Lance looked up at him.

“I’m ready.”

* * *

All of the visions Adam had shown Lance had come to fruition. Those, and much more. The boy was Lance’s mentor, his guide into being a real witch. And being a real witch meant learning about what exactly that meant.

First of all, his powers were not a curse. They were a gift from the Goddesses and God who deemed he was worthy of them. Adam wasn’t sure how people were deemed worthy, but either way, they were, and the pair of them had been chosen. They had limited access to their powers, however, until they turned 18. On their 18th birthday, they would enter into a forest known as Varadero- or the Devil’s Lair, as humans called it -and would pledge their loyalty to the God and Goddesses. And who were the God and Goddesses?

No one fucking knew.

Some witches had seen them, or at least one of them. Sometimes they would appear to them with a task, or to accept an offering. But no one saw them before they turned 18. And those who had seen them were usually so overwhelmed that they couldn’t describe what they had seen.

Lance had been in Varadero multiple times. When Adam had first brought him to his home, he showed him Varadero and let him explore. The entire forest was so _alive_ , buzzing with electricity so tangible that Lance’s entire body felt like it was glowing. He’d returned when he was 13, to find a familiar. Adam had made the two day’s walk with him, camping on the edge of the treeline.

“I’ll wait for you here,” He explained as he began making shelter. “If you need anything, Hyacinth will be circling. Tell her and she’ll get back to me.”

“And I’m just supposed to find a dowsing rod out there?” Lance asked, looking into the snowy forest.

“It’s not as hard as you think. Tap into your energy and one will reveal itself to you,” Adam patted his shoulder comfortingly. “I’ll be right here the whole time. In the morning, we’ll get home.”

The boots Adam had bought him crunched in the snow as he walked, looking around at the trees. A while ago, he might have thought they were dead. But now he knew they were slumbering, awaiting the warmth of spring to awaken once more. He closed his eyes. Okay, a dowsing rod. That can’t be too hard. Focusing, he envisioned the forest around him. The fir trees further north, the tall trunks next to him. To his left, he felt a warmth, yellow glowing in his mind.

 _Gotcha_.

He picked up the flared rod, pulling the white yarn he’d brought from his pocket. He began wrapping up the rod as he walked, wanting to find a place to sit for the night. Sleeping while looking for a familiar was unadvised; who knows what would find you then? A quiet spell spilled from his lips as he walked.

“Oh, powerful God and awesome Goddesses, rain blessings down upon me. Bring me my familiar, quick and with wit, and leave me to be,” He whispered, finishing tying up the rod. Finding a stump, he stuck the rod in the ground and sat.

And now, he waited.

It felt like hours before something happened. The sun sank below the horizon and clouds gathered overhead, light snow beginning to fall. Shivering, Lance held his hands up, closing his eyes.

“Mother, keep my soul, safe and sound. If it is lost, let it be found. Keep my mind, nice and straight, do not let it stray away. If my heart should lose control, keep my eyes upon the goal.” A warmth settled over him and he sighed. Good, that should at least keep the cold out. Setting his hands on the stump, he listened to the sound of the forest, the low humming of magic a constant in the trees. His body tried to respond to it, wanting him to do more, cast more spells, as he was in the holiest of places. Shaking his head, he instead looked to his dowsing rod. He’d wrapped it in a crossed pattern, one he’d designed himself. He’d asked Adam what patterned he’d chosen to find Hyacinth, but his mentor stayed quiet.

“You need to design your own pattern,” He’d explained to the young teenager. “If you use my pattern, you won’t get a familiar special to _you_ , and your bond won’t be nearly as great.”

In his opinion, Adam was a huge dick sometimes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lance saw something move. He sat up straighter, prepared to cast off what could be a witch hunter, a demon, or another witch. Instead, a voice spoke in his mind.

 _“I heard your call, young one,”_ It spoke in a rather feminine tone, moving around the stump and towards the light. _“And I want you.”_

“Show yourself then,” Lance spoke with confidence.

Out of the shadows floated a being, with grey skin and pointed teeth. Blue eyes glinted in the light, and it’s skeletal frame clacked a little when it moved. Clawed hands reached down and lifted the dowsing rod from the ground. Its mouth didn’t move when it spoke, but it looked at him.

 _“I like your design, witch. You are young and full of promise. I wish to guide you, help you on your quest,”_ It explained, slowly beginning to unravel the yarn. _“More than that; I want to protect you. Evil beings are coming, that which have never been seen before. You will need me.”_

Blue eyes watched as the yarn reached its end, the tie the only thing keeping the string attached. Claws fiddled with the loose knot.

_“Is this what you wish?”_

Lance looked up at the being and let out a breath.

“Yes.”

The knot was untied and Lance gasped, heat rushing through him and making him scream. He doubled over in pain, clutching his chest, right above his heart. His skin felt like it was tearing, ripping apart at the seams and he fell to his knees, clawing at his cloak and shirt. Popping a few buttons off, Lance looked at his tan chest, watching as a deep black symbol appeared on his chest. A circle encased what looked like a paw print, and he traced his fingers over it as the pain subsided. Glancing up, the being was still floating there, looking down at him.

 _“What is my name, child?”_ It asked in that female voice. Shaking, Lance swallowed.

“Blue. Your name is Blue.”

The being chuckled softly. _“Very well… Lance.”_

It disappeared into the night and Lance took a moment to right himself, fixing his clothes and standing upright. A soft purr came from the bushes and out walked Blue. Now she was a black, fluffy cat with striking eyes. Padding over to him, she nudged his leg and he chuckled, scratching behind her ears.

“Hey Blue… good to meet you.”

Incorporating Blue into his life wasn’t as difficult as he’d expected it to be. The cat fit well in his tiny bedroom and appreciated watching him practice his magic, as well as accompanying him into town whenever they made the journey. It was a grueling walk, almost a 3-hour trip, but they traded their fruits and vegetables for other things they needed, so Adam made a point to go once a week.

It was in town that Lance experienced his first witch hunter.

Adam was bartering with someone about cloth, so Lance felt it a good time to wander off. He walked through the streets of Altea, turning down merchants goods and politely letting children pet Blue, who gave him a disgruntled look. It made him snort. He came upon a little bakery and ducked inside, the smell of fresh-baked bread instantly filling his lungs. He breathed a little deeper.

The smells were _heavenly_ , he decided. Whoever owned this shop was a kitchen witch, he was sure of it. No food had ever smelled this good, not even his mama’s back home. A boy carrying a tray emerged from behind a door and smiled at Lance.

“Hi! What can I get for you?” He asked, all grins and chipper voice. It made Lance smile back.

“What is that smell? It smells,” Focusing, Lance tested the air. “Fruity. And light, like… like vanilla and… raspberry?”

“Good nose!” The boy held up a small pastry, dripping with frosting and oozing raspberry jam. “My mom just made up a batch, want to try one?”

“Definitely,” Stepping forward, he took the pastry and popped it in his mouth. The pastry was flaky and buttery, the jam thick and the frosting sweet. He was sure he let out a moan outright. “‘s so good,” He slurred.

“I’ll tell my mom!” The boy laughed, and Lance was shocked to hear such a booming sound from someone probably as young as him. “What have you got in the bag? I’ve seen you and your brother out bartering; Ryan swears you guys have the best fruits and vegetables out there.”

Smiling, Lance pulled his bag around to the side, flipping it open. Blue hopped out, meowing angrily at him. He waved a hand at her.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry,” He muttered, pulling out a small piece of cheesecloth. “Here. My pomegranates are the best, everyone agrees.”

“Thanks!” The boy opened the cloth and took out a pomegranate, snapping it in half with his bare hands. Lance was impressed. “You’re right, these are good! I could make a whole dessert with these; how much?”

“Free of charge. You gave me the pastry, after all,” He smiled. “I’m Lance.”

“Hunk!”

They both shared a laugh, the atmosphere light and unbothered. It would be nice, Lance thought, to have a friend who wasn’t Adam. The door to the bakery opened and Blue growled, the sound putting Lance on edge. Instantly, the room changed. Someone was here, someone not to be trusted.

 _Witch hunter_ . Blue supplied in his head. _We need to go_.

Turning his head, Lance saw the man. Tall, almost so tall he needed to duck into the building. He wore dark clothes, a red shirt layered under a black vest. A scabbard hung from his loose, black pants and his black gloves gleamed with something metallic. A silver cross hung around his neck, and scars traced his face. Lance gulped and stepped out of the way as he approached the counter. The boy- Hunk -did not look phased.

“Hey, Kolivan. Heading out on another mission?” He asked, picking up a small bag and beginning to pack bread into it.

“The king of Arus has asked me to come see him. Witches have infiltrated his court, he says. Needs my help to find them out,” The hunter explained, getting into his vest. “It’s still 5 pence?”

“As always,” Hunk responded, going for a bottle on a shelf. “Good luck, Kolivan. Not that you need it. They wouldn’t have made you the leader of the Blade if you weren’t capable.”

“Thank you,” He handed Hunk the money and took the food, turning to leave. Finally, he noticed Lance. “Excuse me.”

“N-Not at all,” He stammered, bending down to pick up Blue. Kolivan stopped and looked at him, then at the fluffy cat currently death glaring him. One of his eyebrows quirked up.

“Beautiful cat,” He commented, making Lance nod.

“Thank you. Good luck on your journey,” He then headed for the door. “Bye Hunk!”

“Oh, bye Lance! Thanks for the pomegranates!”

Bursting out onto the street, Lance searched frantically for Adam. The solace of his mentor would calm him down before his skin started glowing and he gave himself away. Darting through people, Lance finally found him by the fountain, loading up their cart.

“Where were you?” He asked, crossing his arms. “I’ve been looking all over for you-”

“Witch hunters,” Lance hissed under his breath. “I met one.”

“You, you what?” He stammered as Lance clambered up onto the cart. “Where?”

“In the bakery, heading for Arus,” He explained, ducking his head down. “Can we please just go?”

Adam got onto the front of the cart and clicked at their horse, glancing worriedly back at Lance. He calmed down over the course of the journey and by the time they’d reached home, his nerves had stopped singing, his veins stopped screaming. Stepping down from the cart, he met eyes with Adam. He looked disappointed.

“That was too close, Lance,” He said seriously, his face stony. “You know they’re breeding new witch hunters. Ones that can sense us, literally sniff us out of hiding.”

“I know.” He whispered.

Adam had been unfortunate enough to run into one such witch hunter. He told Lance the full story over the course of days as he healed. He spoke of a purple light that had trapped him, of words that caused his knees to buck and ears to bleed. The skin of his legs bore scars of this witch hunter, how his wildcat companion had nearly mauled him. Hyacinth had attacked, scarring the hunter’s face, and had allowed for Adam’s narrow escape. _Those_ hunters… they were horrifying. Monsters among humans who would stop at nothing to kill them in service of their false God.

It made Lance’s skin crawl.

“I know you want to explore and be a kid but… I’m here to protect you,” Adam took his shoulders in hand. “I don’t want another witch dead.”

“I know,” He repeated, letting Adam pull him into a hug. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. The important thing is that you escaped,” A kiss was pressed to his hair. “Let’s get everything inside before night falls.”

That night, Lance laid up in bed, staring out his bedroom window. He was about to turn 17, one year before his becoming a full witch. Then, he could meet Adam’s coven, join in, meet a witch and fall in love. Have more witch children to help their race. It was exciting, the prospect of being able to help their kind. But it was also scary. News of witch hunters waiting at Varadero and striking covens had come back to Altea and had shaken them to their core. This new breed struck with others, the help of angels disguised in animal bodies, and could sense witches. They had harnessed part of Varadero’s energy and had injected it like drugs, making them wiser, keener. Most of all, they were handsome. Luring young witches in and striking when weak, making them trust and then breaking it. One of Lance’s friends had fallen at their hands. He shed a tear thinking of Nyma.

Closing his eyes, he reached out to Blue.

_Yes, my child?_

Blue, he thought. Am I meant to do this? Should I agree to serve the God and Goddesses if it isn’t safe?

 _I cannot tell you that. I cannot make your decisions for you. But you are destined to do wondrous things, my child. That I am sure of_.

What kind of wondrous things? He asked, hearing her shush him.

 _Shh. Rest. Do not worry yourself over these things. I am here to protect you from harm, and that I will do_.

Sighing, Lance settled into his mattress. He trusted Blue, she’d never steered him wrong before. Sleep overtook him and he finally relaxed, her words echoing in his mind.

But you are destined to do wondrous things, my child.

Destined to do wondrous things.

Wondrous things…


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Keith, and get to know about his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, a little warning: some of this gets intense. There's some capital punishment, child death, God shows up; its a lot. So, I give you the warning now, look at the tags before continuing. That being said, in this chapter, it's Keith's turn! We see his past and how he grew up to be a witch hunter. I hope you like it because goddamn, this chapter was a whopper. If you can't tell, I'm a little biased against Christianity. This isn't Christianity to the note, obviously, these are still my Franken-religions after all, but it's very grounded in the base of Christianity. Also, before I start getting questions; in this Universe, all religions exist! Whatever you believe in is what will happen to you; if you believe in the Lord, you'll go to heaven when you die. If you're a witch and you believe you'll be reincarnated, then you will. If you believe you rot in the ground, then you will! So technically, no one is right or wrong, everyone just has their own opinions. Anyway, after this chapter we're gonna finally get into the story, so stay with me! Thank you so much for your comments and kudos, I love them! They make me want to write more! And if there are any grammatical or spelling errors, please forgive me, I'm un-beta'd. Enjoy!
> 
> Also, the translations will be in the end notes if you need them.

_[Keith]_

Growing up hearing the legends of your father’s duties to the queen, but never actually meeting him, was hard on Keith. Everywhere he turned as a child, he’d heard stories of how his father took down witches with his bare hands, using the divine powers gifted to him by the lord. Clayton had been the first of their kind, hunters with angelic companions and a sense for witch energy. He’d been unstoppable, insurmountable; until Keith was born.

On the day of his birth, their home was laid siege on by a coven, ones destined to kill the witch hunter who took their leader. Clayton had hurried his wife and newborn child into a cart and sent them to town, towards the church, where they were to await his arrival. He never arrived. The small house was set up in flames of many colors and he perished inside, his angelic companion dying alongside him. The kingdom wept for the loss, but none harder than his mother, Krolia. Not only had the greatest witch hunter alive, the leader of the Blade died; but so too did her husband. The woman went into mourning over the loss of Clayton and vowed to raise her son in his footsteps. Keith was baptized in the way of the Lord a mere 4 hours after his birth, and Krolia took refuge inside the church walls to raise him.

Keith had always felt different growing up. He never spent time playing outside like the other children did, he never attended traditional schooling or traveled outside of the city. Instead, Keith spent his days in Bible study, memorizing the words of God and singing praise to his holy name. From Genesis to Revelation, he could tell you any verse at the drop of a hat. He attended Sunday services and Wednesday children’s church, under the close tutelage of Vicar Macidius.

He was six when he first learned of witches.

Vicar Macidius had left the city to travel South, almost into the land of Puig, to help a troubled family. Something had happened with their youngest son, he said, something beyond words. It had caused a chill to fall across the halls of the sanctuary when he said that the family believed their child was a necromancer.

Looking up at his mother, Keith tugged on her arm. “Mama, what is a necromancer?” He asked, making her shush him softly.

“I’ll explain later,” She promised, listening as the vicar discussed his plans with their high priest’s wife, Haggar. The old woman nodded slowly as he spoke, reaching out and placing her wrinkled fingers against his head.

“May the grace of the Lord be with you, Macidius. Find the traitorous boy, and return his soul to our Father,” She rasped, letting Macidius exit. Her golden eyes drew over to Keith and he looked away, nervous. Haggar always made him feel uneasy; no one knew anything about her. Her face was always shrouded in a purple cloak, her white hand gripping the handle of a creaky walking stick. The wheezing tone of her voice made her seem ancient, though no one but the high priest knew her exact age. “Krolia.”

His mother looked up when she was addressed. “Yes, ma’am?”

“Bring me your boy.”

Terrified, Keith looked up at his mother. He gripped her hand tightly, shaking his head. Whatever Haggar wanted with him, he would pass. Wholeheartedly and 100%, pass. Still, his mother squeezed his hand.

“It’s alright, Keith. It’s alright.”

She walked Keith to her and the old woman held out her free hand for Keith to take. He shrunk back a little against his mother’s black skirt. Haggar sighed.

“Child, I do not wish to harm you. There is much for you and I to discuss,” She explained, extending her liver spot covered hand to him. “Come with me, Keith. I must ask of you a question.”

Gulping, Keith looked up at his mother, who nodded. He took a step forward and took her hand, trying not to recoil at the feel of her leathery skin. Haggar chuckled softly and led him down one of the stone halls of the church, and through a heavy wooden door that had to be unlocked with a key. Torches glowed on the walls of a staircase, and the pair descended slowly; one out of necessity, one out of fear. No outdoor light reached them, and Keith could feel the air becoming stale and wet. Finally, they reached the bottom of the stairs and Haggar unlocked another door, letting them into a dark room.

The door closed behind her and Keith gasped, turning around frantically in the dark. He shouldn’t be afraid, he knew it, but Haggar was just… _freaky_. Quickly, he pressed his hands together and mumbled a quiet prayer.

“אדון, מדריך אותי דרך החושך אל האור.1” He whispered, instantly feeling better. Suddenly, a brilliant white light filled the room, concentrated in the center of the floor. A circle, containing both Hebrew words and another circle, glowed angelically, and a low hum radiated throughout the air. Haggar sighed in awe.

“I’d thought so,” She whispered, slowly kneeling on the ground. When Keith didn’t follow suit, she glared up at him. “Kneel before your Lord, child. Have we taught you no better?”

Bewildered, Keith looked at the light, then kneeled, dropping his gaze to his hands. Did he do this? Did the Lord really come because he prayed? Biting the inside of his lip, he pushed down his confusion to focus on the fact that _God_ was in the room with him. Haggar spoke, Hebrew sounding that much worse in her thick voice.

_“Heavenly Father, we thank you for blessing us with your presence-”_

_“Enough,”_ A loud voice boomed and the light grew more intense, causing Haggar to fall silent. Slowly, the light faded back to a dim pulse. _“The child is the one I seek. Come forth, child.”_

Keith’s head slowly raised up, and he swallowed hard, standing. His legs shook as he walked to the edge of the circle, afraid to go any further. _“I am here, Father. I am here to do your bidding_ . _”_

He saw Haggar nod her head in approval. In that moment, he really didn’t care. The light pulsated a bit more, and the voice spoke again, much quieter now, but still as powerful and unwavering.

 _“Your father slain many by his hand. Practitioners of witchcraft and the dark arts. He served me well, with grace and dignity, even going as far as to become a martyr,”_ The Lord sounded as if he was consoling Keith, trying to comfort the child over losing his father he’d never even met. Awkwardly, Keith rubbed the back of his neck.

_“I, yes, he did, Father.”_

The light glowed a little brighter. _“I see the same good in you, my child. You are destined to bring the dark arts to its end, to bring every last demonic entity to its knees. I have faith in you, my child. You are to start training at once.”_

Haggar spoke up then, voice trembling only slightly. _“But, my Lord, witch hunters do not begin their training until they are at least 8 years of age-”_

 _“Do you dare question your God?”_ The voice shouted, sending Haggar stumbling back, hands in front of her face. _“Do you cast doubt upon me, Yahweh? The beginning and the end? The Alpha and Omega? The lion and the lamb?”_

 _“Never, my Lord!”_ Haggar insisted, body trembling. _“I, I shall see to it that the boy starts his training posthence. Forgive me, my Lord, for ever casting doubt on your Holy Name.”_

The room slowly grew darker, and Keith watched as the wheels of the circle began spinning. A reflective, glittery substance filled the air and golden light shone from the middle of the circle when the Lord finally spoke again.

 _“You will need a companion, an angel, to help you come about your gifts,”_ A figure began materializing in the air, a small animal with four legs and a snout. It let out a soft whuff. _“For as long as you serve me, he will remain by your side. Treat him with respect and kindness, for he is of me as all of my children are. Begin your training in earnest, my child. You are bound to put an end to the demonic hold Lucifer has on this Earth. I have great faith in you, Keith.”_

A loud flash blinded the room and Keith fell to his knees, holding his head and crying in earnest. Haggar shouted in tongues, crawling forward on her hands and knees to the child. He felt her hand grab his ankle and suddenly, everything was dark.

Panting, Keith looked up from where blood had splattered on the stone floor. He wiped his eyes with trembling hands, gasping when he pulled his fingers away stained with red. Breath hit his face and he looked up, coming face to face with a small wolf. His brilliant white fur was lined with strategically placed grey marks, across his face and down his body. Yellow eyes stared back at him and the wolf huffed again, sticking out its tongue to lick Keith’s face. The child giggled softly.

“Hello,” He whispered, rubbing his head. “I’m Keith. And you are?”

The wolf said nothing, instead licking Keith’s face again. Haggar chuckled, pushing herself to her feet.

“Come along. I’ll need to tell the high priest to transfer you to the training grounds.”

A heavy handed knock pounded on the door, and Keith jumped, his wolf stepping in front of him and growling protectively. Haggar called out.

“Who’s there?”

“Haggar, it’s me,” Their high priest called, sounding out of breath. “It’s Macidius, the child; he’s a witch. Tomorrow, he’s to be hanged.”

Keith gasped at that. Hanged? But, but the child was only five, if Keith remembered correctly. Surely they didn’t mean it, he couldn’t be hanged so young, could he? He looked to Haggar, who’d made her way to the door. Their high priest, Zarkon, stood there, towering over the pair inside. The old woman took her husband’s hand and patted it.

“Another one to celebrate,” She whispered, making her husband smile.

“Oh my love… how joyous a day it will be.”

A rock sat in Keith’s gut and he swallowed hard, bending down to rub his wolf’s head. The priest and Haggar spoke for a moment before they led him out, telling him all the wonderful things he would do as a witch hunter.

Keith sat at dinner with his mother that night, staring at the potato soup they’d had brought to their room. He’d not been allowed any; part of his becoming a witch hunter meant purifying his body. Until the leader of the Blade himself accepted Keith into training, he could only drink a broth of fermented plums, for faithfulness, juiced oranges, for self-control, and apples, for peace. It tasted vile, and Keith could barely choke it down.

“Mama,” He said softly, looking up at her tired face. “Are you excited for me to become a witch hunter?”

His wolf perked up at that, eyes on his mother. She looked at him with a smile, one he’d come to know. Mournful, but full of pride; reserved for just her son. “Of course, Keith. Your father would be proud to know you were following in his footsteps.”

“But he died,” The child pointed out, staring out the small window near their bed. The statue of his father stood tall in the church yard, bible in hand, a witch slain at his feet. “Should I really do this if it… if it caused his death?”

His wolf let out a low noise and his mother took his hand.

“Keith… becoming a witch hunter is a… sacred duty. It is a privilege to be chosen by the Lord to bring forlorn souls home,” She explained, looking at the angel, settling back down onto the floor. “I know it’s scary to think that… as a child, you’ll be doing this but… why don’t we go to the hanging tomorrow? You’ll be able to see the evil with your own eyes, and you’ll know why you’ve been called. These… servants of Lucifer, you’ll feel better about your calling when you see the face of one.”

Biting his lip, Keith took another drink of his broth. His nose wrinkled. “But the witch… he’s only five. He’s my age. How could he have done something so bad that he deserves to… die?”

Krolia set her spoon down. “A witch is a witch. Whether he’s five, or fifteen, or fifty; he deserves to hang for the crime he committed against the Lord.”

It was confusing. It made Keith confused. What had he, a child, done? If Keith was his age, could he have just as easily committed this crime? No one in town had heard of what the child had done, no one but Vicar Macidius. He would announce it to the town in the morning, before the child was set to die. And then, it would no longer be left to the church to find and kill witches. The entire kingdom had heard the news of new witch hunters, ones with power coursing through their veins, taken from the very witch woods themselves. They became like monsters, hell-bent on destroying witches they had taken power from. Would Keith become one of them? Beasts, with bloodlust only cured slitting the throat of a witch?

He assumed he would find out when he watched the child hang.

But the hanging never came.

The town square was filled to the brim with people, an anxious energy filling the air as the crowd waited with bated breath. All were watching the hills, waiting to see the black carriage of the vicar emerge from the woods. Keith stood next to his mother, holding her hand tightly. His wolf sat next to his feet, eyes pointed at the gallows. Behind him, a person cleared their throat.

“Krolia,” A man spoke, making the pair turn around. Instantly, Keith took a step back, bumping into his mother’s legs.

“Ah, Kolivan, it’s good to see you again,” His mother’s hand found his shoulder and she squeezed softly. “Keith, this is Kolivan, leader of the Blade, and your father’s mentor.”

Keith stared up at the enormous man. He towered over even his mother, who stood higher than most women. His dark hair was pulled out of his face in a braid, his dark skin covered in scars. A witch hunter. The first Keith had ever seen. A silver cross glinted on his neck, glaring under the morning sun. He shuddered a little.

“And this is your boy. The one set to join our Holy ranks?” He asked, looking down at the wolf at his feet. “He has a companion already?”

“Yes, gifted to him by the Lord, yesterday,” Krolia said, pushing her son forward a little. “Keith, should you be accepted into the Blade, Kolivan will be your leader. Don’t be afraid of him.”

Kolivan kneeled slowly, taking Keith’s face in one enormous hand. He turned his jaw this way and that, examining him. Then, he spoke to him, in their chosen tongue.

_“The Lord appeared to you, boy? And what did he say?”_

Shakily, Keith responded, _“That I am to serve him as a witch hunter, and follow in my father’s footsteps. I am to destroy the evil that lurks in our kingdom, with the help of my wolf.”_

Seeming satisfied, Kolivian nodded and stood, a small smile on his face. “Your training begins, today, after the child witch is hung. My men will collect your things from the church posthence.”

With a flick of his hand, two men moved from the crowd. Wait, there were hunters _here_? Keith gulped, jumping a little when a wet snout pressed into his hand. He petted his wolf absentmindedly, looking towards the hills. A black carriage rolled over them and people began to shout, jeering and crying out cruel words. They were hostile in and instant, and Keith pressed closer to his mother, only to be pulled to Kolivan’s side.

“Don’t fear, Keith. This is an occasion you will come to enjoy,” He squeezed his shoulder. “This is the first of _many_ witch slayings you will attend, and there is no better time to witness one than right before your training begins. It will get your energy flowing.”

The carriage came into the square with a rattling halt, one of the horses whinnying loudly. A loud roar rang up from the crowd and Keith swallowed the frog in his throat. A footman stepped down from the carriage and opened the door, the crowd fully expecting to see Vicar Macidius step down, the child witch in hand.

What would the witch look like? Evil, Keith assumed, with green skin, yellow teeth dripping with venom. Red eyes, glowing with hell’s infernos. Perhaps he’d shout at them in tongues, in whatever language the Devil himself had cursed upon him. He expected rags for clothing, and clawed hands. Maybe Keith would enjoy this. Seeing the purified version of evil hang.

Instead, they got nothing.

Vicar Macidius exited the carriage empty-handed, and High Priest Zarkon’s voice boomed over the crowd.

“Vicar Macidius,” He shouted from the gallows, a hush falling over the crowd. “Where is the boy? The child witch?”

All eyes were on him. The vicar looked confused, stepping down from the carriage and onto the cobblestone streets. A path was formed for him, from the carriage to the stand. He slowly began his walk to the wooden platform.

“Your Grace, forgive me,” He began, hang clasped around his cross. “But I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about.”

“Excuse me?” The high priest walked to the edge of the gallows, face a mask of rage. “You were sent to collect a child witch and bring him to _hang!_ Where is the child, Macidius?”

“Y-Your Grace, I know not of a child witch-”

“Liar!” Zarkon roared as Macidius climbed the steps to the gallows. The vicar knelt, holding his hands up in surrender. “You and you alone knew the name and home of the child witch. I sent you, with faith in our Lord, that you would return with him! So I ask of you again; where is he?!”

“H-High Priest Zarkon,” Macidius’ voice trembled. “I know nothing of-”

A heavy hand struck Macidius across the face and he fell, causing the crowd to gasp. The high priest looked at the crowd, then back down at the man.

“In the absence of a witch, someone will hang,” He announced, picking Macidius up by his collar. “A blasphemer. One who claims he knows not of a child witch!”

The crowd cheered and Kolivan squeezed Keith again. The child looked, panicked, up at the man who was his father’s mentor. Who was supposed to become his mentor. Surely they wouldn’t watch this, watch a nearly innocent man be killed? Maybe he had forgotten, maybe the child had escaped or been, been killed by his parents. He couldn’t watch this.

Zarkon drug the man to the rope, swinging ominously in the wind. The noose was tightened around his neck as he begged for his life, reaching his hands out to the high priest.

“Please, have mercy upon me!-”

“The Lord’s will must be done upon this day!” The high priest announced, making the crowd cheer. “And in place of a witch, we will see the protector of witches hang. May his soul _rot_ in hell.”

Macidius begged and pleaded as the ground fell out from underneath him. A loud snap rung out over the sounds of thundering cheers. The vicar twitched and Keith covered his mouth in horror, hiding his face in the legs of his mentor. Hesitantly, Kolivan’s hand found his hair, and he stroked softly.

“ _The Lord wants all who are evil to burn, child. And should Macidius be protecting a witch… then he too, has been touched with that evil,”_ He explained. Tears spilled down Keith’s cheeks as the crowd’s angry roar was shouted over.

“Hunter Kolivian,” High Priest Zarkon called, making the man straighten up.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Have you accepted Keith Kogane, son of Hunter Clayton Kogane, as a member of the Blade?” He asked. The child trembled.

“I have, Your Grace.” Kolivian confirmed, making a murmur roll through the crowd.

“I want this child raised, trained in your ways to find the child witch,” The high priest commanded. “It is his duty, his God-given mission, to find the child, and bring him to justice. He will die, by Keith Kogane’s hand.”

* * *

Keith’s class of hunters was made up of 10 people. Most of them were children of nobility, those who were chosen by the angels. Archangels, who had appeared to them while they slept, and told them that they were to join the Holy ranks of the Blade. Only Keith himself had heard the Lord, had been gifted his companion by their God himself. And as the youngest member of the Blade, the only one who had been gifted a companion before his 14th birthday, he was a target.

On his first day of training, while he was buttoning up his vest, a solid mass hit him. Stumbling, he fell onto his chest, letting out a soft noise. His wolf growled and he sat up, rubbing his head to comfort him.

“It’s okay Kosmo,” He whispered, looking up at the boy who’d pushed him. Brown, floppy hair hung in his face and he wore a scowl. Keith’s eyebrows furrowed and he stood. “What’s your problem?”

“Don’t think we haven’t heard the rumors, half-breed. Child of Clayton Kogane, slayer of the mighty witch mother,” He spat, resting his hand on his belt. “You’re supposed to surpass everyone in our class within a mere few years. But I don’t believe it.”

“What are you talking about? Half-breed, mighty witch mother?” He was confused; no one had told him about any of this. The boy walked right up to him, making him step back.

“Someone hasn’t been studying their sacred texts. Funny, you’d think living with our leader would make you wiser than everyone else,” The boy pushed him a little and Kosmo barked. “Stay out of my way, half-pint. Drop out quietly. I’m sure the shame will only eat you alive for the rest of your life.”

“Okay!” Their trainer called, getting the boys’ attention. “Line up. We’re running basics today; hand-to-hand combat. Pair up and start sparring.”

Keith asked Kolivan that night over dinner. A small candle illuminated their shared quarters, an order by the high priest, to keep Keith close. The child looked up at his mentor.

“Kolivan?” He got a noncommittal grunt in return. “What is a… a half breed?”

The scraping of his mentor’s spoon on his bowl stopped, and dark eyes looked up to meet him. The child dropped his eyes, afraid he’d said something wrong.

“Where did you hear that word?”

“Today,” He bit his lip, feeling Kosmo’s nose touch his hand. “Someone, a boy, at training. He called me a half-breed. What does that mean?”

A heavy sigh echoed throughout the room and Kolivan’s chair scraped across the floor. The man stood and walked to Keith’s side, kneeling down to his level. A hand found his shoulder, and the child looked up at him.

“It’s an old, antiquated word that the nobility used when I was a child. Back then… it wasn’t uncommon for witches and humans to… bear child together. Half-breeds ran amok, laying siege on the land of our High Holy Priest, Zarkon,” He explained, and Keith nodded slowly.

“Daibazaal,” He whispered, remembering the stories Haggar used to tell the children of her home. “But, it was destroyed.”

“It was,” Kolivan sighed. “By our late King Alfor. He knew that, if he did not strike at the source of the problem, the half breeds could overthrow other governments, other lands. So with the help of our Lord, they burned Daibazaal to the ground. But… there were rumors. Spoken that some witches, half-breeds, escaped. Fled to Altea and bred quietly, creating more of the plague that haunts our society.”

“So… why would they call me that?” He asked quietly, looking at his lap. “Am I-”

“No. You’re no half-breed, though your father was suspected of being a witch. However, he explained his extraction of the witches energy from Varadero, and the rumors ceased. Whatever they may say, Keith, you are no half-breed. Your father was a good man, who served his Lord well. As you will.” Kolivan assured him, patting his shoulder.

Keith wasn’t sure if he should believe him.

The mighty witch mother, Keith found, was where the source of all witches came from. In their minds, the witch mother was a Goddess. She had blessed the witches with their powers, and had given birth to the first witches in their land. Their depictions of the witch mother were light and airy, with white skin and yellow hair, decorated with flowers. She bore three breasts and held a babe in her arms, the first witch born into the forest of Varadero.

But they knew what she was.

A demon, one of their trainers had explained during a lecture. One masked to look beautiful so they would trust her into giving them demonic powers. Keith sat in a classroom, book in front of him, reading about how his father had slain the mighty mother. The image of him, holding her decapitated head in hand, made him feel nauseated.

“From then on, witches began dying in droves, being killed at the hands of the great Hunter Clayton Kogane. Now, we suspect that only 100 witches live, hiding in the trees or in plain sight. These witches are smarter, have learned how to hide out of the way of us. Which is where you all come in,” Their teacher told them, holding up a small vial of glowing white liquid. “This is pure witch essence. Once injected into your bloodstream, your body will either accept the essence, or you will die.”

No one reacted. Keith had to speak.

“If your body rejects the essence, you die?” He repeated, causing everyone in the room to look at him. “How is that fair?”

“You will meet our Lord knowing you paid the ultimate sacrifice; dying to bring victory to his Holy Name. It is an honor,” He told them, setting the vial on his desk.

“When does this process start?” Keith asked, wondering why no one else was saying anything.

“On your 14th birthday, when your companion comes to your side.” He continued speaking, as if Keith’s concerns were nothing. “Should your body accept the witch essence, you will continue down the path of light until you become a full fledged witch hunter. You will be released into the lands of our kingdom and, given our Queen’s permission, you will hunt and kill the witches who remain on our land.”

Horror gripped Keith as he left the study room that day, his textbook clutched against his chest. A shoulder slammed into him and he hit the wall roughly, Kosmo instantly growling at his attacker. The boy from before- James, he’d learned -stood over him.

“You sounded a little worried in there, half-breed? Scared your body will reject the essence?” He teased. “Knowing your father, it’ll awaken something in you. Make your bloodline full of witches again.”

“My father was _not_ a witch,” He stood up into James’ face. “Keep his name out of your filthy mouth.”

“Are you going to fight me, half-breed? Face it, no one wants you here. Your bloodline is muddled, your way to the path of light blocked. I’m just the only one who isn’t afraid to say it.”

Keith had never realized how hard someone’s jaw was. Still, the way his fist made contact with James’ face felt _good_ , the crack of the bones in his hand incredibly satisfying. The taller boy went down and Keith straddled his waist, fists wailing at his face. James shoved him off and kicked his ribs, and Keith winced at the blow. Hands grappled at him and he was pulled up, off of James and into someone’s arms.

“That’s enough!” A boy shouted, the one holding Keith. He recognized it; Takashi Shirogane, the head of their class. “Ryan, take James to your room. I’ll have Kolivan come see you when he’s done with Keith.”

“Yeah, just you wait, half-breed!” James shouted as his roommate drug him off. Keith growled and tried lunging at him again. But the bigger boy held him fast.

“Calm down there, tiger. You really don’t want to upset Kolivan more than you already have.” His voice was calm, even as he held Keith’s arms over his head. “You really don’t seem to like it here.”

“It isn’t my fault James is an asshole,” He muttered as Takashi finally let him go.

The boy smiled and ruffled his hair. “He is, yeah. Come on. Let me walk you up to Kolivan. That may… soften the blow.”

They walked in silence, Keith aware of the eyes on him as they moved. The wet stones of the building squeaked under his feet, and light shone in from the open archways into the training yard. It felt like Keith was going to meet the reaper. He swallowed hard and looked at the bigger boy.

“What I said was right, you know,” He mumbled. “About the witch essence. How it’s wrong to submit young witch hunters to die.”

“You’re right.”

He wasn’t expecting that. Keith blinked a few times to clear his head.

“I mean, not all of us are so ready to admit it out loud, but you’re right. The whole thing, taking kids and putting them through intense training, it seems a little wrong,” Takashi told him, leading him up the staircase to Kolivan’s office. “But we can’t say what’s right or wrong. We aren’t God, or Kolivan, or archangels. We just have to have faith that what they’re saying is right.”

“It’s hard,” Keith admitted. “To have faith in a God I can’t see. To believe that a deity who would sentence a child to death is good.”

“Still hung up on that child witch?”

Another thing Keith wasn’t expecting. What didn’t these people know about him?

“You know?”

“Everyone does,” They stopped in front of Kolivan’s office and Takashi gave him a smile. “Come find me later if you want to keep talking, Keith. You could use a friend here.”

That thought made him smile. A friend. He could use a friend. Nodding, he stepped into Kolivan’s office in high spirits, despite the pain in his side. But that died when he saw his mentor’s face. Kolivan’s eyes were stony, and he held a whip in hand. Panting, Keith looked up at him, trying to step back through the doorway. No, no, this couldn’t be happening.

“Kolivan, I’m, I’m sorry-”

“Keith,” He cut him off, hand clenching the leather tighter. “You know our rules inside and out. I ingrained them in you the moment you arrived. And for you to break not only mine, but our Lord’s, rules… you must repent.”

Keith’s body trembled and tears filled his eyes. Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. His lower lip shook as he turned around, his back to his leader. Not his mentor, his leader. That was all Kolivan was to him now. He knew this was commonplace, a punishment normal amongst troublesome witch hunters. But he’d never expected it to fall upon him.

The whip struck him, and he screamed.

* * *

Keith and Shiro became fast friends, after all, the boy had moved rooms into his. After his repentance with Kolivan, he refused to stay with the man, much to their leader’s disagreement. Shiro, it would seem, made a much better mentor. Never screaming in Keith’s face, never whipping him when he’d done wrong. Instead, Shiro was patient, helping him to understand his service to the Lord. They studied their religious texts together and sparred with exclusively one another, Shiro never letting Keith stray far.

On Shiro’s 14th birthday, Keith was invited to join him in his companionship ceremony. It would be where the angels above would send one of their own down to join him on his quest. It was also the first ceremony where Shiro would be injected with witch essence, and he could know whether or not his best friend would die.

Keith was terrified, of course.

“I’ll be fine, Keith,” Shiro said over dinner, finishing his wine. He’d been served the holiest of meals in preparation, and Keith glared at the unleavened bread in front of him. “You know that only 1 out of every 6 hunters can’t handle it.”

“That means there’s one of us who can’t, if not two. Who’s to say you aren’t the one?” He questioned, feeding Kosmo a bit of meat. “I don’t want you to die, Shiro.”

“I won’t die, Keith. I’m the head of our class, the most versed in our holy texts and the best at tracking witches. I can handle this,” He promised, squeezing Keith’s hand across the table. “And if I do, I give you permission to find a witch, bring me back to life, and beat me up.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

The training yard was set up like an arena, with the stands full of witch hunters of all ages. Kolivan stood on the lawn, in front of a firepit. Keith took a seat on the front row of the crowd, watching as Shiro- stripped nude -entered the arena. The hunters cheered, and Kolivan raised his hand to quiet them.

“Brothers and sisters of The Blade of Marmora, I present to you, on his 14th birthday, Takashi Shirogane,” The crowd roared once again. “He enters this field, naked, as he was when he was borne onto this planet. He leaves his boyhood behind and becomes a man, ready to take on his duties as a full fledged hunter. He will begin this path by reading from our sacred texts on the duties of a witch hunter, and calling forth the angels from on high to bless him with a companion. Should a companion be gifted to him, he will lay upon our holy altar, and undergo the true test of our kind; the injection of pure witch essence.”

Shiro stepped up to the altar and Keith waited with bated breath. Maybe it would be a good thing, if Shiro wasn’t given a companion. Keith could renounce himself from The Blade of Marmora, and he and Shiro could become farmers or something. Live together as siblings, far from this place. Out of the purview of God. Kosmo growled softly.

Clearing his throat, Shiro picked up the Bible from the altar and began reading.

 _“The duty of a witch hunter is a sacred, chosen path that few may follow through. The weak minded, the soft willed, the non-believers; they shall be turned away. Only those with a heart of purity and a mind of stone may serve his Holy Name,”_ Shiro read. The fire grew higher, turning white in color. _“Undergo the trials of a hunter, submit yourself to the Lord, and you will hold a crown in his kingdom. Accept him as your Lord and Savior, and he will bless you with the power to save souls, corrupted by the Devil.”_

The fire roared and Keith leaned back, Kosmo moving around to the front of his body. A loud explosion rang out across the arena and everyone gasped. A bright, blinding light shone across them, and that same glittery substance filled the air, as it did for Keith, all those years ago. A shape began to form as something spoke.

 _“Takashi Shirogane, son of Asami and Hinata Shirogane,”_ It’s voice was calm, feminine. _“Step forward.”_

Shiro took a deep breath and did so, walking underneath the light.

_“Pure of heart and kind in spirit, Takashi Shirogane… the Lord is pleased with you. I, Archangel Tartys, come to bestow a gift upon you. A companion, to help you along the path of light. Behold, Musta, your companion and guide.”_

Out of the light jumped a cat, a wildcat, with black fur and glowing yellow eyes. The cat stalked around Shiro before purring, rubbing against his leg. The angel’s light pulsated, and Shiro fell to his knees.

 _“Thank you, Archangel Tartys,”_ He whispered. The light disappeared and the crowd roared in approval. Even Keith had to applaud at that. Musta laid across Shiro’s legs and he pet the wildcat gently. Kolivan cried out over the roaring crowd.

“Brothers and sisters, our brother Takashi Shirogane must still undergo the injection,” He shouted, quieting them. “Brother Shirogane, if you will.”

Nodding, Shiro climbed onto the altar and laid down. This was what Keith didn’t want. The serum was picked up and the needle inserted into the boy’s arm. Kolivan pressed the end and the essence was sent into Shiro’s bloodstream. The whole arena waited with bated breath. Keith leaned forward, watching, waiting.

Suddenly, Shiro’s body seized and he screamed, eyes going pure white. Blood poured forth from them and his body convulsed, curling into a ball on the altar. Fear gripped Keith and he jumped up, trying to rush the arena.

“No! Stop this, he’s dying!” He screamed, watching as yellow light glowed from Shiro’s eyes, nose and mouth. Two Blades caught him, wrenching him back from the field. “Kolivan, do something!”

“This is the Lord’s will, Keith. The Lord’s will must be done; Victory or Death,” He quoted the Blade’s motto, which the entire arena parrotted. Keith watched in disgust, shock, terror, as Shiro’s body fell still. The light left him and Musta growled lowly in his throat. Tears flooded Keith’s eyes and he sobbed.

“No,” He whispered. A hush fell over the crowd. “Shiro.”

A brilliant light exploded from Shiro’s body and he gasped, sitting upright. His body glowed with magnificent light, what one could call radiant. Slowly, he stepped down from the altar, taller, broader. His body was that of a man’s, with wide shoulders and a barrel chest. A piece of his black hair had turned white. The arena filled with cheers and Kolivan laughed, actually laughed. Stepping forward, he clapped Shiro on the back.

“Brothers and sisters of The Blade of Marmora, I give you Hunter Takashi Shirogane. Brother in arms, messenger for the Lord our God, slayer of witches! Let Heaven praise his Holy Name!” He announced.

“Let Heaven praise his Holy Name!” The arena copied. Keith couldn’t speak. He watched as Shiro was greeted by other members of the Blade, Musta only just allowing people close. He didn’t go greet Shiro on the field. He returned to their room.

* * *

“Were you afraid?” Keith asked into the dark of their room a few days later.

“A little,” Shiro admitted, shifting around in his bed. “It was weird. It was like I was set on fire, but I could breathe. And I heard the Lord… at least, I think it was him. He told me… that I couldn’t leave your side. That no matter what, we were partners.”

“He said that?” The younger asked gently, remembering his own experience with the Lord. “So I should… I should go through with my ceremony too, shouldn’t I?”

“Do you want to?”

Keith sighed. “I don’t know. On one hand, I want to do it so I can prove to James that I’m not a half-breed, and that I can handle this. I want to keep Kosmo, he’s my best friend besides you,” The wolf huffed from his place on the bed. “But on the other hand… I don’t know if I want to do this. I don’t know if I can… submit myself to the idea of murder.”

“It isn’t murder if it’s a witch,” Shiro promised him.

“They’re still people.”

The room fell silent and Shiro sighed. “Keith… you've become a brother to me. I won’t tell you what to do, it, it has to be your choice. But just know that… if you choose not to join us on the path of light… I won’t be able to protect you. Without the Lord, Keith… I don’t think anyone can.”

_Join us on the path of light._

Shiro was one of them now. And Keith couldn’t leave him. That was his brother now. His everything, after being unallowed to see his mother until he joined, Shiro was the only family he had left. And sure, being able to shove James’ face in the fact that he could handle the witch essence would be nice, but keeping Shiro by his side was much more important.

“I’ll do it,” He whispered. “I’ll join you as a Blade, Shiro.”

The anxious air lessened then.

“Thank you, Keith.”

* * *

Keith’s body took the witch essence in stride but it was no great honor to him. The moment was bittersweet at best, due to the circumstances.

James Griffin was buried, two days after his 14th birthday, alongside another girl in their class, Narti. Their bodies couldn’t handle the injection, and before the eyes of the Blade, they died. Two heavenly companions- a bear and a cat -died not 24 hours after. It rained when they put them in the ground, and Keith bit the inside of his lip roughly as they were lowered.

Children. They were children. And yet, people would still do this, still go through the companionship ceremony, praising the Lord the whole way. And Keith was one of them. A sharp pain hit his chest and he looked down at Kosmo, who licked his hand.

It didn’t help.

* * *

“Come on Keith. Patience yields focus,” Shiro said, holding his shoulder. “Close your eyes, visualize the arena, focus in on the witch.”

The 18 year old did so, closing his eyes. Kosmo whuffed beside him and he chuckled, rubbing his head. He could see things in his head, the stands, the altar, Shiro behind him; but he couldn’t see the witch. He knew they were there but… groaning, he opened his eyes again.

“Nothing,” He shrugged, watching as one of their classmates, Katie, walked out from under the bleachers, holding a witch’s severed hand.

“Really? Dude, this thing is dripping in energy, how can you not sense it? Shiro, can you?” She asked, looking at the hand. “Maybe I picked the wrong body part, but I figured since magic comes from the hands…”

She kept rambling on as Shiro nodded. “Yeah, I can sense it. Take five, Katie. I want to talk to Keith.”

The girl left the field and Keith flopped down into the dirt, the sun shining in his eyes. It was a nice change from the darkness behind his eyelids. His companion laid beside him and he rubbed his white fur. A hand holding a canteen appeared in his vision and he took it, sitting up and having a drink of wine.

“Keith,” He knew that Shiro voice, that voice he used when he was about to lecture Keith on the importance of what they were doing and why he was proud that Keith had gone along with it; he didn’t want to hear it.

“I know, I know. I need to try hard, visualize my subject more, pray harder; I’m trying, Shiro.” He huffed, shaking his head. “I’m just sick of all this. Why can’t I just close my eyes and boom, there’s the witch, like you do?”

A low chuckle left Shiro as Keith handed the canteen back. “Yeah, you mean like the one who had an owl nearly claw my eyes out? Yeah, I’m so lucky.”

Keith looked at his friend. Across Shiro’s nose was a scar, wide and deep, from his left cheek to his right. He’d gained it in a fight with a witch, one who’d managed to slip away. That was Shiro’s one, the one that got away. He swore he wouldn’t die until that witch did. No matter how many others he’d slain, that one was his prize. Keith believed it.

“What did you want to say?” The boy asked, nudging Shiro with his arm. His partner grunted and removed a piece of paper from his pocket.

“We’ve got a mission from Kolivan,” He unfolded the paper. “Apparently, there’s a coven down in the woods by Puig. Led by the very same witch who almost blinded me, two years ago.”

“You’re kidding,” Keith took the paper, reading it over. “But why am I coming with you?”

“There’s rumors,” Shiro sighed. “That he has a ward. A teenage boy he looks after, who’s one year away from his 18th birthday.”

“His witch’s baptism.” Keith supplied, making Shiro nod.

“Kolivan wants your first kill to be someone easy. Not a full fledged witch but someone more… capable of being taken down. Then, we can wipe out the whole coven together. As a team. The four of us.”

His first kill.

Keith had never killed before. He’d been on many outings with Shiro or other Blade members, but he’d never taken the life of a witch. There were many reasons why. Fear, maybe, that he’d fail and the witch would kill him instead. Horror, at the idea of spilling blood by his hand. But this… this witch who’d nearly killed his best friend, he deserved to die. And whoever this ward was… Keith was sure he deserved it as well.

“When are we set to leave?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1- Lord, guide me through darkness into the light.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our protagonists meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So this chapter is the first combined one, where our protagonists meet. Half is in Keith's perspective, and half in Lance's. I had a hard time writing this chapter, because I want to skip the first meeting and move on to what I have planned! Anyway, just a few things for clarification; a coronation is when witches pledge their loyalty to the God and Goddesses. There are 7 Goddesses (who are referred to as Holy Mothers) from various different religions. There is one God (Baphomet) who is referred to as the Holy Father. Witches typically specialize in one type of magic- protection, potions, necromancy, herbalism, etc -and are expected to know what type they want to be before their coronation.
> 
> Also, I love seeing people theorize as to what is going to happen in the comments. It makes me want to write more! Enjoy this chapter and I hope you like the way thing go! As always, mind tags and ratings, check warnings and remember I am un-beta'd! Otherwise, enjoy!

_ [Lance] _

Yellow  petals waved above his head and Lance raised his hand, palm glowing blue. Clouds hung in the sky, and Lance frowned. He whispered a soft incantation to the Holy Mothers and Holy Father.

“Let the flames of Anor reach the earth. The flames of Anor will reach Earth the whole day long,” Slowly, the clouds dissipated and warmth filled Lance’s bones as the sun heated the Earth around him. Sighing, he stretched out his ribs and rolled onto his side. This was probably one of his favorite places, a sunflower field along the border of Puig, a 15 minute walk from the cottage. It was big enough to get lost in, if you didn’t follow the paths. So, Adam couldn’t find him unless he tracked him, which his mentor promised he’d never do unless his life was in danger. Therefore, it was the only place he could escape the elder.

A soft purr sounded from near his feet and Lance smiled.

“Hey Blue,” He reached out, rubbing the cat’s head. “Where have you been?”

_ “Oh, having a small conversation with Hyacinth,”  _ She laid by his side, purring at his scratches.  _ “Adam is looking for you.” _

“Isn’t he always?” He sighed, looking at the towering sunflowers above his head. “I’m 17, Blue. Almost an adult and a full fledged witch, he can’t keep mothering me all the time, right? I mean, I have you to protect me when I finally decide to move out and join my own coven.”

_ “Your own coven?”  _ The cat stood, looking into his eyes.  _ “Where is this coming from, child? I thought you longed to join Adam’s coven?” _

“I do,” Lance sat up, picking up the familiar, who rumbled a little in displeasure, but did not fight him. “But… I can’t just hang around him forever, can I? I don’t always want to be Adam’s ward. I want to be my own witch.”

Blue sighed and settled into his arms.  _ “I cannot reveal to you the future, child. Remember? But I can understand your hesitation. I will follow you wherever you go, whatever path you choose to follow.” _

Lance smiled and kissed her head. When Adam had told him about familiars, he’d described them as servants, helpers to the witches who summoned them. But Lance didn’t see Blue as a servant. She was his friend, his ally to rely on when he’d found himself lost along the witch’s way. The cat had become his best friend, outside of Adam. He set Blue down on the dirt and picked up his Book of Shadows, opening it to the page he’d marked.

“If Adam must know, I came out here to practice my weather and herbalism spells. What did he need me for?” He asked, half-heartedly reading one of the spells.

_ “Oh, no big thing. He just wanted you to come home and meet his coven,”  _ She yawned and stood up. Lance dropped his book.

“Wait, they’re at the house? Now?” Hastily, he shoved his book and canteen into his bag, pulling on his shoes. “Merciful Inanna, why didn’t you say something sooner?”

The cat yowled when he scooped her up into his arms and he ran from the field, promising the flowers he’d heal them later, once he’d calmed the sure wrath of his mentor. Crashing out onto the dirt road, he ran in the direction of home, trying to ignore the chill that rushed through him. Winter was coming. He was a mere 7 months from his coronation, in Varadero, and Adam was letting him meet the coven  _ now _ ? His mentor was a staunch traditionalist, what was he thinking?

He was panting when he finally arrived home, the cottage invisible to the naked eye. All that humans, mere mortals could see was a small hill and a little pasture below. But there was a soft shimmer in the air, and Lance held his hand up to the barrier he knew was there.

“Follow where the blind are leading, listen where the mute are keening, where the deaf are storytelling, where the silent bells are kneeling, take the road that splits asunder, nor left nor right but travel under, where the one self meets the other, in the beast's eye spy your brother, one from two and strange combining with the other intertwining.”

The barrier warbled and fell down, revealing the little cottage to the teen. Pushing the gate open, he ran up the hill to the house. The cottage was Adam’s home, a white stone building trimmed in teal with a straw roof. With only 5 rooms, it was an average size for farmers such as themselves. Their garden stood out front, separated by a path leading up to the front door. Adam’s side of their garden flourished with herbs and vegetables, all the things he used in his day to day witchcraft or sold at the market. Lance’s side was a bit more eclectic, with fruits from the lands of Arus and spices from deep into Puig. The teen witch’s area of the home was always more cluttered, much to Adam’s dismay, but it made him feel more at home. Still, he had no time to enjoy it. Stumbling up the dirt path, Lance burst into the cottage.

Instantly, 6 pairs of eyes fell on him. Adam’s coven. Lance recognized all of them, dressed in black and drinking tea in their sitting room. A small fire burned teal in their fireplace, and Lance chuckled softly, nervously, putting Blue down on the floor. Walking through their kitchen, he entered into the cramped sitting room.

“Uh,” He slipped his bag off his shoulder and tossed it onto the staircase. “Hi.”

“Hello Lance,” One of the men, Dorian, greeted him. “You’ve grown so much since we last saw you!”

“Yeah, well, it's been a few years,” He laughed nervously, taking a seat in one of their armchairs. “W-What are you all doing here?”

“Adam called us,” Agatha said, crossing her slim legs. “I think he wants our input on your coronation gown, since, after all, you’ll be joining our coven afterwards, right?”

Sighing, Lance looked over at Blue, who laid in her usual spot in the window. Her tail thumped against the windowsill. She blinked slowly at him before resting her head against the glass. Was he going to?

“Of course he is,” Adam said as he entered the home, carrying a small stool and multiple reams of fabric. “We’ve turned away perfectly good witches to keep a space open for him. Our coven has been kept away from the Holy number of 8 to assure Lance would be welcomed. He’s wanted to be a Child of Hecate since he was a child himself.”

Looking up, Lance saw the disappointed look on his mentor’s face. Adam kissed his forehead softly, then pinched his ear. The teen yelped a little.

“Hey!” He shouted.

“Late to your own coronation fitting. Of course it would be you,” Adam sighed and helped him up onto the stool. “Come on then, get undressed so we can get your gown started. I brought the coven so they can give input.”

The teen dropped his cloak off with a grumble, looking at his familiar mark on his chest when his shirt was removed. He traced it gently, looking up at his mentor when blue fabric was draped over his torso.

“Adam? Why aren’t male witches called warlocks?” He knew he’d heard the word among the mortals, how they described male witches. He just didn’t know why they didn’t use it.

A snort rang up from the sofa and Agatha tittered. “Oh, Adam, are you sure he’s ready to join our coven?”

“Hush, Agatha,” Adam waved his hand at her and pinned fabric to Lance’s arms, creating sleeves for his gown. The coven muttered in their approval. “Lance, the word ‘warlock’ has a connotation to it. Ugly, evil beings with no desire but to harm. With powers gifted to them by the Devil, as they’d call it. We aren’t evil, nor are we ugly. So our Holy Mother Isla called us witches, and the title stuck.”

“There’s seven Holy Mothers,” Agatha reminded him. “And one Holy Father.”

“I know,” Lance frowned, looking back at his mentor. “So, why am I wearing a dress to my coronation?”

“All witches wear gowns,” Another witch, Leticia, said from her place on the sofa. “It’s tradition, since Isla gave birth to the first witches in a white gown. Most witches do wear white, but it isn’t unusual to buck tradition and wear color, especially now. I did, and so did Dorian and Natalya.”

“Did you wear a dress?” He asked Adam, who smiled softly, shaping the bottom of Lance’s gown. “But I was there! When you went into Varadero, I saw you go in-”

“I changed in the woods, Lance,” He patted his leg. “Now stop moving, I don’t want to stab you with a needle.”

Confused, Lance furrowed his brows, lowering his arms a little. “Why did I never get to see you in it?”

“Keep your arms up,” He instructed strictly. “I kept you out of my room for a week, remember? It’s because I was sewing. I didn’t want you to see it, I knew it would confuse you."

The teen huffed but put his arms back up. “But I bet you looked so pretty in it! I want to see it!”

“It’s long gone, now,” Agatha sneered. “Left in Varadero, where he met our Holy Mother.”

“Wait, you met one of the Goddesses?” Lance looked down at Adam.

“Keep still!” He shouted, sitting back on his heels. “Yes, I met our Holy Mother Inanna on the day of my coronation.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s a big deal!” Lance demanded, making Adam stand.

“Well I can show you,” He sighed, holding his hands out to Lance. “We can astral project back to my coronation day, should you want to see it so badly.”

“Yes!” Lance put his hands in Adam’s, already feeling his energy pulsate through him. His mentor chuckled and looked at Hyacinth, raising a knowing eyebrow at her.

“Don’t let the place fall to hell without me, alright?” The owl cooed and Adam squeezed his ward’s hands. “Alright, repeat after me. I call to the sands of time through the past and into the future. As I lived through history, I summon you, show me the lives that I lived through.”

The pair repeated the spell over and over, their combined magic filling the room with a beautiful blue light. In an instant, they were gone.

* * *

Lance gasped as they appeared in Varadero, Adam by his side, holding his hand. The sun was setting behind the trees, the air electrified almost. The teenager looked at his mentor, who smiled softly. It was obvious he was happy to be back. Through the trees, there was a white shape, moving slowly into the clearing they stood near. Lance watched as Adam, younger now, moved into the clearing, wearing a gorgeous white gown. A long train drug across the ground, decorated in silver, looping, leaf like patterns. The collar was high though the dress was sleeveless, and Adam had left his glasses behind.

“Whoa,” Lance whispered. “You look beautiful, Adam.”

“Thank you Lance,” His mentor said quietly, watching his younger self enter the clearing, carrying his tribute, a basket of fruit and cured meat.

“Were you afraid?” He asked, watching as Adam set the tribute on the altar and knelt, pressing his hands and arms to the ground. The older Adam sighed.

“A little,” He admitted, wrapping his arm around Lance’s shoulders. “Alright, I’ll admit it. I was terrified. I didn’t really know what to expect, despite all of my reading and studying. I didn’t know if it would be painful, or scary or, cost something more than I’d been prepared for.”

Lance stepped closer to him, watching as the tribute disappeared from the altar. A soft, pink light glowed behind the altar and Lance’s eyes widened as one of the Holy Mothers, Inanna, appeared. She was _stunning_ . She bore tanned skin and long, flowing brown hair with dark eyes to match. A golden crown sat on her head and pink stones glinted within, a gown of the same color draped over her. It was sheer, however, leaving her body visible underneath. Her entire body glowed with golden light, and she spoke with a soothing, calming voice.

_ “Rise, my child,” _ She told the younger Adam, the teenager raising his head. He looked confused, and scared. Inanna clicked her tongue.  _ “Do not be afraid. Do you not recognize me?” _

_ “I-I do,” _ Younger Adam stuttered, taking the Goddess’s offered hand and standing.  _ “Y-You’re… Holy Mother Inanna.” _

_ “Clever boy,”  _ She purred, a dainty hand resting against Adam’s tan face. He shivered a little, and Lance leaned forward to hear them better.

_ “Holy Mother, w-why have you appeared to me? I’m not-” _

_ “You aren’t an emotion or astral witch, I know,”  _ Her voice cut him off, her other hand against his waist.  _ “You are a witch of protection, of all kinds. Herbs and charms and potions; any form of protection you can offer. You even put a glamour on your home, didn’t you?” _

_ “Yes, Holy Mother,”  _ Adam’s voice had stopped shaking now. Inanna sighed and let her fingertips trace his features, from the slim bridge of his nose to his straight jaw. Golden light glowed where she touched then faded just as quick, though Adam looked visibly affected.

_ “And you do all of this for your ward. A young witch by the name of… Lance, isn’t it?”  _ Inanna asked. Stunned, Lance looked up at his mentor, who shrugged.

“You became a healer because of me?” He whispered, feeling Adam’s arm tense a little.

“Not just that. I like healing too, in and of itself… I just wanted to be sure you’d be protected. So you could feel free to do whatever you wanted, study whatever you wanted.”

Lance was overcome with emotion and he hugged Adam, who held him up by the waist and sighed. Adam had always made him feel so very much at home, comforted, even when he was miles away from his family farm. Sometimes, Lance really felt like Adam deserved better. His mentor set him down and he turned back to the coronation playing out before him.

_ “And that’s why I’m here, child. You focus so much on the boy that you’ve never taken even a moment for yourself,”  _ Inanna turned Adam’s head by his chin, to make him face her.  _ “Even now, you worry for him. This is supposed to be your moment. Your time to truly lose yourself in our culture and magic.” _

_ “I’m sorry, Holy Mother. I just… I worry about him.”  _ Adam whispered, eyes following Inanna’s fingers, which trailed across his lips.

_ “And it is a noble thing. But Baphomet is watching over him now, he is okay,”  _ She promised, free hand cupping the back of his neck.  _ “Let this moment be, solely, about you.” _

The pair met in a passionate kiss and the older Adam gasped, covering Lance’s eyes quickly, the teen shouting in indignation.

“Hey! What’s going on!” He tried pulling Adam’s hand away.

“I had… forgotten about that. You don’t need to see what’s happening,” His mentor sounded embarrassed, which made Lance want to know what was happening all the more. 

Prying at Adam’s fingers, Lance caught a glimpse of the younger Adam, dress pooled around his feet, his body bare before the Goddess. He gasped, “No way!”

“Oh, take up back from whence we came, to time and place that are the same. Let future be present and time remain!”

* * *

Lance gasped as they came back home, laughter immediately following. Red in the face, Adam stepped away from him, going to absentmindedly sort fabric. One of the coven members, a girl named Hera, spoke to the hysterical teen.

“Are you okay?”

Through tears, Lance pointed at Adam, “He, he had  _ sex  _ with Holy Mother Inanna!”

Fuming, the older witch stormed back to him. “It isn’t that funny!”

“Yeah it is!” Lance insisted. “You had sex with a  _ Goddess _ , Adam! Literally no one is ever going to live up to that standard! Was that your first time?”

His mentor’s face got even redder, if that were possible, and he dropped to his knees to pick at Lance’s dress. “I had been saving my purity for someone important and, well, Inanna is the Goddess of sex and-” More laughter erupted from the teen and Adam hit him in the leg. “Oh, don’t laugh at me! Look, it was a very important moment and I shared it with a Goddess. I think that’s a wonderful thing.”

“Seconded,” Dorian piped up. “I wish my first time had been with a Goddess. Or the God, for that matter.”

“You want to have sex with Baphomet? Even I draw the line at the goat head,” Agatha said over the rim of her teacup. Adam shook his head.

“ _ Anyway _ , what I mean is, losing your virginity is a very big deal. You know witches are all about free love and self-satisfaction, so once you have taken the first step, you can truly experience life as Inanna intended it; with no bounds.” He explained, and Lance nodded, finally calm as Adam pinned the low cut front of his dress.

“I know. Having sex is a way to honor the God and Goddesses, it isn’t something to joke about,” He sighed. “Being pure isn’t a bad thing, and losing your purity is a big deal.”

“Are you, though?” His mentor asked, rising up to his level. “Pure, I mean.”

“Oh Gods, Adam!” He groaned, stepping down from the stool to get himself a cup of tea.

“It’s just a question!” Adam defended himself.

“No, it’s you wanting to be in my business,” He mumbled, pouring himself a cup.

“It is a good question,” Agatha told him. “I mean, the God and Goddesses might not accept you if you aren’t pure.”

Turning on his heel, Lance shot Agatha a withering glare. She held a hand up in surrender, and Leticia stood.

“While that  _ could  _ happen, the God and Goddesses are more concerned on whether or not you’re pure of heart. If you truly believe and want to pledge yourself to magic, they’ll accept you,” She patted his shoulder, and he gave her a little smile.

“If you all  _ must  _ know, yes. I am still a virgin.”

“Praise Gaia,” Adam mumbled.

“With both men and women, right? Whether you’re the one penetrating or being penetrated, it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex.” Agatha snarked, folding her hands in her lap.

Exasperated, Lance looked at Adam, who shared the same face. Holding up his hand, Adam flicked his wrist at Agatha.

“Gossip and ill-feeling begone. Trouble us no more.”

Eyes wide, Agatha touched her face where her mouth should have been. Except now, it was gone, transported into a jar on one of Adam’s apothecary shelves. She tried speaking, if her upset facial expressions were any indication, but nothing came out. Lance giggled a little under his breath and even Hera had to crack a smile at that. Sighing contentedly, Adam looked back to Lance.

“Now. You were saying?” He asked.

Lance sighed, having a seat in one of the armchairs. “I have never been with  _ anyone _ , male or female. I’m a total virgin, with Inanna as my witness.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Adam sat next to him. “Good. Now, have you given any thought to what sort of witch you’d like to be? You’ve always been good at weather and plant manipulation; maybe some kind of herbalist?”

Now that was a can of worms that Lance didn’t know if he should open. He’d practiced everything, from potions to levitation, and nothing really spoke to him. Sure, he liked herbalism well enough, but it wasn’t his favorite type of magic. He wasn’t sure if he even  _ had  _ a favorite type of magic.

“I don’t know.” He sad honestly, looking up at the coven. “Maybe you guys can help me?”

Clapping his hands, Adam nodded. He looked like a child on Yule. “Agatha, get his bag so we can have a look at his Book of Shadows.”

With a heavy sigh, the witch did so. The coven all clamored around and began flipping through, looking at his notes and marked spells, chattering excitedly to one another. Lance stood and walked over to Blue, rubbing her head. The cat purred gently and opened one eye to look at him. A soft giggle filled his head.

_ “You look nice,”  _ She teased at his half assembled dress. He rolled his eyes at her.

“Yeah, whatever.”

The two of them looked over at the coven, who were deep into a debate on whether or not Lance could just be a potions witch. He didn’t like the sound of that; all of his potions putrefied within minutes of being created. The cat stood and stretched out her lithe body.

_ “What are they doing?” _

“Oh, they’re trying to figure out what kind of witch I should be,” He shrugged, picking her up. Settling into his arms, the cat tilted her head up for scratches, which Lance gladly supplied. “What do you think I should do?”

_ “Personally? I think you would make a wonderful conjurer.” _ She told him, making him frown. Conjuring? He’d never come across any spells in his Book of Shadows, nor did Adam talk about anyone being a conjurer. Glancing back down at the cat, he wondered if she was joking.

“Hey, Adam, Blue had an idea,” He called, making the coven look up at him. His mentor smiled.

“What does she think?”

“She thinks I should be a conjurer.”

The house fell deadly quiet, not even Hyacinth making a noise. Slowly, Adam stood from his chair, his face unreadable- and a little bit scary. He made his way over to them, taking Blue from Lance and tossing her outside. The teen shouted.

“Hey-!”

“Lance, you aren’t going to be a conjurer, I won’t allow it.” Adam shut the door, making the cat yowl angrily to be let back in. “And you can come back when you stop filling his head with nonsense, hellspawn!”

“Why? What’s so bad about conjuring?” He asked, looking among the adults in the room. Dorian sighed.

“It’s… dangerous. Conjuring is something not a lot of people try, because of how risky it is. Say your words right, and you can bring people from across the world to you, or even see one of the Goddesses or the God,” He explained.

“Say the wrong words, and you can bring forth vengeful spirits, demons, or even hunters. Ones who can triangulate you and kill you, on the spot,” Adam spat, looking at Lance. His eyes were intense, roaring with fire. “I won’t let you do it. Pick a different topic.”

With eyes slightly squinted, Lance nodded. If conjuring could be used for good, why not try it? Maybe he would, someday, should he be able to get his hands on any conjuring spells. With how intensely Adam despised it, he was sure that a spellbook with conjuring would be near impossible to find.

The rest of his fitting drug on and soon, the coven was preparing to leave, Adam alongside them. The seven would be riding into the land of Olkarion to meet up with another coven, one whose numbers had been decimated by a ruthless witch hunter. Witches were dwindling in number, and Adam had told Lance he would feel remiss if he didn’t go help. So he’d packed a cart and stood in front of their home as the sun set, reigning up their horse.

“I’ll be back in a week’s time,” He told Lance, holding his face. “I asked a friend to stop by and help you go to market on Thursday, so make sure you keep an eye out. He knows the glamour spell, so don’t let it down for anyone. Keep Blue with you at all times, as well as some of the Nunvill potion in my apothecary. Oh, and in case anything happens or any hunters show up, head into the city and stay with the Garrets, I’ll find you-”

“Adam,” Lance stopped him. “I’ll be fine. I’m not a kid anymore, I can handle myself and the house. Go. You need to help those people.”

Sighing, Adam pulled him into a tight embrace. “Don’t do anything stupid. I love you. I’ll see you in a week.”

“I love you too.”

Lance watched Adam until the caravan had completely disappeared from the horizon. Heading instead felt weird, but good. He felt like an adult, like Adam finally trusted him enough to be alone. And he should trust him! He knew how to work the apothecary, and which fruits and vegetables to take to market, and how to protect himself, should anything unforeseen happen. In his opinion, he’d been ready for this since he had gotten Blue.

Walking by Adam’s room, his eyes were drawn to a jar with a pair of floating, black colored lips inside. Right, Agatha. Lance picked up the jar and looked down at Blue.

“We should probably put these back where they belong, hm?” The cat purred and he closed his eyes. “I call upon the spirits of the magic well to help me with a reversing spell. Back to from which it came, taken away, restored again.”

The jar was empty once more and Lance set it back on the shelf, looking down at Blue.

“Now, let’s find a book of conjuring spells.”

* * *

In the clearing of the sunflower field, Lance sat, a heavy leather book in front of him. After rifling through all of Adam’s things, he’d found Isla’s original Book of Shadows, with all of her spells.  _ All  _ of them, including conjuring and trapping. He read intensely on those sections, astounded by the extent of conjuring spells. How could the witch world toss out, essentially, 500 spells just to summon things? Were they that threatening?

He’d found one, a conjuring spell for mothers, that he couldn’t get away from. Gods, Lance missed his mama. He hadn’t seen her since he was 5, but he had heard from her. Every year on his birthday, she’d written him a letter. All of them were kept in his room, inside his pillowcase. He swore they radiated calm energy.

What would she say if she saw him now? Would she be proud, impressed by the man he’d become? Would she think he was beautiful, grown into his height and freckles like a true McClain? Maybe she wouldn’t say anything, just cry and hold him close, whispering her first language into his hair.

Or maybe she wouldn’t react like that at all. Perhaps she’d be horrified to know that once, he’d brought a cow back from the dead, and now he could talk to spirits. He could levitate and talk to his cat in a language only spoken by witches. Maybe she’d take one look at him and decided he was too different, that he wasn’t her boy anymore.

He had to know.

Sighing, he picked out the spell on the page. He’d bring her here, just for a few minutes, to hug her, talk to her, tell her he missed her. Right as he began to read the spell aloud, a voice shouting cut him off.

“Red!”

A thump followed, accompanied by a pained groan. Frantically, Lance shut his eyes and whispered a glamour spell.

“Though they look, they shall not see, magic mirror, grant me invisibility.”

A wave of calm washed over him and he packed up his things, standing to his full height. Knowing he couldn’t be seen, he peeked over the flowers to see what had happened.

Laying in the road was a horse, it’s leg broken. It whinnied in pain and Lance felt awful looking at it. Its rider was standing, looked panicked down at his horse. Dark hair was pulled out of his face, purple eyes glinting in fear. He stood, broad shouldered and tall, taller than Lance, even if only by an inch or two. Muscles rippled under his clothes and he had an energy about him that seemed to call out.

He was  _ beautiful _ .

Slowly, Lance walked through the flowers, listening as the man spoke to his animal.

“Hey, it’s okay girl, we’re gonna get you fixed up. You’re gonna be okay, I’m here,” He comforted the crying beast. Pushing through the flowers, Lance stood on the side of the dirt path, watching as the man brushed the hair from his horse’s eyes. It made the witch giggle softly at the little show of affection.

Confused, the man looked up and around. “Who’s there? Show yourself.”

The witch fell silent again, watching him stand. Walking around his horse, he peeked through the flowers, looking around. Seeing nothing, he drew back, looking directly into Lance’s eyes. It took all he had not to let his breath catch in his throat. Only a breadth’s width apart, he could feel the man’s warm skin, a contrast to the cool autumn breeze that blew. Raising a hand, Lance brought it close to his face, wanting to know if his skin was as soft as it looked. Then the man stepped away, and his hand fell to his side.

He kneeled next to his horse again and Lance stepped back into the flowers, whispering the same reversal spell he’d used to give Agatha her lips back. Once he was sure he was visible, he pushed the flowers apart and stepped out onto the path.

“Hello? ”

* * *

_ [Keith] _

The lands outside of the city were very diverse, Keith had come to find on his journey. He and Shiro had passed by farmland and forests, had crossed a river and fields of waving purple flowers, still holding on in the late autumn months. He’d never been one to admire nature, but as they rode out, he’d had to appreciate how stunning the landscape actually was.

Shiro had gone off the path to a forest, his horse seeming to know the way just as well as the man himself. Red was a little more wary, stepping over holes and tree branches with caution, but still following her leader. Kosmo, wary of the day’s journey, had taken to laying across the horse’s rump. Just as Keith was going to ask his friend where they were going, they came upon a clearing in the woods, where a cabin sat.

“I camp here when I’m out on missions. It’s close enough to the border that the witches can’t be far off, though, I haven’t sensed any since we’ve been out,” Shiro said, dismounting his horse. He walked her over to an enclosed area, beginning to unpack hi things.

“You haven’t?” Keith asked, stopping Red near Shiro. In actuality, Keith didn’t know if there were witches nearby. He wouldn't even know if one looked him in the face.

“No. Which is a little confusing, because last time, that guy was like a beacon. He couldn’t move a foot without me knowing. But now, nothing,” Shiro shrugged. “Let’s head inside.”

The one room cabin smelled like firewood and mothballs and it made Keith’s nose wrinkle. A rickety dining table bore a thick Bible, and a cross hung proud over the mantle. Absentmindedly, Keith touched his neck, where his own cross rested underneath his clothing. Shiro tossed his things onto one of the cots, sitting down and reading over their summons again.

Directly from High Priest Zarkon, Hunters Shirogane and Kogane were to stay on the borders of the lands of Altea and Puig until they found, apprehended and killed a coven of 7 witches, as well as a 17 year old witch under the care of the coven leader. Technically, they were to return to the city in spring, but they could take longer, should they need to. Shiro took this summons very seriously. That witch had nearly taken his eyesight, as well as putting a spell on him, making him slowly lose the use of his left arm. It was a vengeful anger he had. He’d told Keith once he caught the witch, he’d have him reverse the spell, then, he’d choke him on his own blood.

It made Keith shiver.

“Hey, I’m gonna go scouting,” He told Shiro, picking up his bag. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Alright, be back by nightfall,” Shiro agreed, and Keith slipped out.

He thought, as he mounted Red, would he ever think that way? So vilely of witches that he’d kill them without mercy? He’d never killed anyone. He… had never wanted to. A part of him still believed that their God was a cruel one, to praise people who would so viciously kill. That thought made his chest ache dully, but he ignored it. Riding out of the forest, Keith hit the trail and let Red gallop. His situation was dull, grim, almost, but he didn’t have to think about it all the time. Moments like these, he could be free.

Even on the uneven terrain, Red was unworried, running down the dirt road without haste. They broke the crest of a hill and Keith glanced over at the field of sunflowers on his right. It was beautiful, really, but he’d regret looking over when Red whinnied in pain and he was tossed forward, skidding across the dirt on his stomach. He shouted as he felt gravel dig into his hands, turning to see what had happened.

His poor horse laid on her side, leg at an awkward angle, sticking out of a deep crevice in the ground. Scrambling over to her, he rubbed her head.

“No, no, no,” He murmured at her forlorn cry. ““Hey, it’s okay girl, we’re gonna get you fixed up. You’re gonna be okay, I’m here.”

Something on the wind caught his ear. A voice, almost. A noise, someone… laughing? Confused, he looked around. There was no one, except the flowers and trees, and the own call of his animal.

“Who’s there? Show yourself.” He prompted to the wind, standing. Maybe someone was hiding in the flowers? He pushed a few apart, looking through the stems. There were only sunflowers, only dirt and a quiet autumn breeze. Leaves rustled in the trees and Keith sighed, pulling back and running a hand down his face. This was ridiculous. The only ones out here were him and Red. Heading back to his horse, he bent down to her level. He’d have to kill her. She couldn’t survive with her leg that way. Tears filled his eyes and he bent down to kiss her head.

“Hello?”

Looking up, Keith saw a boy. Well, a man rather, standing on the edge of the path. Short cut brown hair framed a thin face, his skin tanned. He was lithe and tall, with thin features. But that wasn’t what was the most striking thing about him. It was his  _ eyes _ . Blue as the sky, or the ocean or, or ice; Keith couldn’t describe them. But they were such a bright blue that he couldn’t look away. God… he was breathtaking.

“Uh,” Keith stuttered, swallowing hard. “Hi. Where, where did you-”

“Her leg,” The boy walked over and knelt next to Red. “It’s broken, right? You’re going to have to put her down.”

Remembering his horse, Keith looked down at Red. “Oh, yeah… I guess I’ll have to.”

“Is she close to you?” He asked, looking over at Keith with those gorgeous eyes and God, Keith was lightheaded.

“Yeah… I’ve had her since I was 14,” He told the boy, resting a hand on Red’s stomach. A tan hand covered his and he felt him squeeze.

“Do you want me to look away?” Blue-Eyes asked quietly, making Keith shake his head. No. No, the comfort would be nice. He’d never… killed anything. Especially not his horse but having someone else there might… make it easier.

“No… stay. Please.”

Breathing deeply, Keith pulled his blade from his bag. The purple knife felt so heavy in his hand, and he looked down at his horse. Bending down, he kissed her head and rubbed her snout. He didn’t know if he could do this… a hand touched his bag and Keith gasped, dropping his blade.

“I can’t,” He whispered, looking at Blue-Eyes. “I, I can’t k-kill…”

Blue-Eyes nodded and rubbed his back slowly. “I will… if you want.”

Keith felt weak. He couldn’t even watch as Blue-Eyes put Red down, how was he supposed to kill a witch if he couldn’t even put a damn horse down? God… Shiro would be so disappointed. Wait, how was he going to get back to the cabin? He couldn’t walk, he didn’t know the way! This day was just getting better and better?

“Hey,” Blue-Eyes touched his back. “I handled it. Uh, here, your bag.”

With heavy heart and mind, Keith took his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He felt useless, weak. And in pain, where was his pain coming from? He looked at his hands and winced. Right, he’d hit the ground skidding. Cuts littered his skin, some small and unassuming, one deep into the meat of his thumb. God, give him strength, he couldn’t deal with this.

“That looks bad,” The other boy said, taking Keith’s hand. His eyes ran over the marred skin and he gently touched one of the cuts. “You’re probably going to need stitches.”

“It’s not like I can make the trek back into the city to find a doctor,” He spat, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, I can just bandage it-”

“I can do them for you,” Blue-Eyes gave him a gentle smile. “Come on.”

He lead Keith through the sunflowers and into a small clearing and sat him down in the dirt, opening his own bag. Digging out a spool of thread and a needle, Blue-Eyes took his hand gently. He removed a canteen from his bag and poured water over the cuts, making Keith wince.

“Sorry,” He whispered, using his long nails to remove the bigger chunks of rock from his cuts. Then, he threaded the needle and looked up at Keith. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” He answered honestly.

The first stitch was painful, and Keith grit his teeth the entire time. It got less and less painful though, and eventually, he was able to focus on the other boy over the pain in his thumb.

“Thank you, uh,” He knew he couldn’t very well call him Blue-Eyes, but the other boy seemed to understand.

“Lance,” Blue-Eyes, Lance, introduced himself.

“I’m Keith,” He said. “You’ve really helped me. I couldn’t have done any of this by myself. Can I ask, uh, how do you know how to do this?”

Lance slowed as he pressed the needle through Keith’s thumb again, but it didn’t phase the dark haired boy. “I live with my brother out here, and we had to learn how to do these things. Doctors don’t typically like travelling all the way out here. So we made do with each other.”

“You obviously did pretty well,” He mused.

A snort left the boy in front of him and Keith felt like he was having a heart attack. “When you have a brother like mine, you learn to fix people up really quick. He doesn’t always watch where he’s using those shears.”

Keith laughed. “You’re farmers, then?”

“Yep, and we grow some of the best food you ever tasted,” Lance bragged. “My pomegranates are to kill for.”

“I’d love to try them sometime,” Keith murmured before he could stop himself, and a pretty smile graced Lance’s cheeks.

“Maybe you will,” He said, tying off Keith’s stitches. “Just about done!”

Keith looked at his expertly stitched thumb. “Thank you again,” He watched as Lance wrapped his thumb up in a piece of cloth, then pressing his lips to it. Blood rushed Keith’s face. “Uh-”

“Sorry,” Lance gave him a sweet smile that made Keith’s knees feel weak. “Force of habit. To make the pain go away, you know?”

His thumb did feel less sore, but maybe that’s because of his misdirected blood flow. Still, he nodded a little nervously. “Ah, y-yeah, thank you.”

Packing up his things, Lance stood. “It was nice to meet you, Keith. I hope your day gets a little better from here. Be careful with that thumb, alright?”

Suddenly, Keith didn’t want him to go. He didn’t want this handsome stranger to walk out of his life, especially when he’d done so much to help him. Reaching out, Keith caught his hand.

“Wait!” Startled, Lance looked down. Keith dropped his hand almost instantly, cursing under his breath. “Uh, um, will I see you again? Around, I mean?”

A warm look passed over Lance’s face and he cocked a hip out, looking at Keith with a smirk and man, that shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, Lord help him. Blue eyes roved Keith’s body and he chuckled.

“I’ll be at the river tomorrow to wash my clothes. Maybe I’ll run into you then,” He turned and headed out of the field, tossing a little wave over his shoulder. “Bye, Keith.”

Keith called out, “B-Bye!”

His heart was pounding and he looked down at his thumb. There was no pain at  _ all _ , but maybe it was because he could only think about Lance. He was a Godsend, an angel among mere mortals, kind enough to help Keith put down his friend in a gentle way, and strong enough to stitch people’s skin back together without a blink of an eye. And he was very easy on the eyes, too. Standing, Keith collected himself.

It would be a long walk back.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and Keith get a little closer, much to a few people's distaste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we just ignore the giant hiatus I took and pretend that never happened? Because I'm back with a probably not so long awaited chapter! I just hit a hard time and decided to take a break from writing, but I am back, our favorite boys are back and we are ready to see their relationship develop! I kind of have an idea of where this is going, and a very loose story line we're going to follow. Obviously, the main story is our four boys falling in love, but we have a lot of setup for what else is coming, and trust me, it's a kicker. Your theories, comments, kudos and bookmarks have inspired me, and I've fallen back in love with this story and want to keep writing it. To those of you who stuck around through the hiatus, thank you so much. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I do hope you continue reading and liking this fic. I love writing it, and most importantly, I love writing for people who love reading it. You all keep me going, even when life gets shitty. That's the end of my emotional rambling, however, so, as always, mind the tags, check the ratings and warnings often, and I am un-beta'd, so please don't hold it against me. Enjoy.

_ [Lance] _

Lance watched Keith until his silhouette completely disappeared into the forest. Sighing, he touched his lips where Keith’s thumb had been pressed, reverent in the way they’d been with one another. So calm in Lance’s favorite space, untouched by the world around them. He liked him, a lot. Oh, he was so sweet, too afraid to put his horse down. Some may call him cowardly for that. Lance thought it was endearing. He’d had a literal stranger put the horse down over himself because he couldn’t stomach the thought of harming another living being.

Right, the horse.

In actuality, Lance  _ hadn’t  _ killed the horse. He’d put a sleeping spell on the beast, so Keith would believe he’d done it. Walking back to the slumbering horse, he rested his hands on the beast’s belly. Alright, he wasn’t as good of a healer as Adam was, but a broken leg wasn’t that big of a deal, right? He’d helped Adam heal himself when hunters had attacked him, why couldn’t he help this horse? Taking a deep breath, he pictured his energy exiting his body, through his hands and into the animal.

“Aching, annoying, irritating pain, leave this body, for you are not welcome to stay. Into the wind you go, obey!” He called out. Underneath his hands, the beast shuddered and Lance opened his eyes to see the broken bones healing themselves, muscles and tendons connecting once more. The horse stood, opening its eyes again. It looked around for its master and whinnied, confused. Lance shushed it. “Shh, shh… hi girl. Hey… you broke your leg and I healed you. My name is Lance, you’re going to have to live with me now.”

The animal neighed again, pressing her snout into Lance’s hands. She looked forlorn.

“I know, I know love, you miss your master. But he can’t know I healed you. I’m a witch, you know. As far as he knows, you’re dead. But don’t worry. I’m going to take good care of you,” He promised her. The horse huffed as if accepting her fate. He smiled and rubbed her mane. “Good girl. Now how about I show you your new home?”

Unsteady on her legs, the horse let Lance lead her back to the cottage. Letting the barrier down, he walked her to the barn and let her into a stall of her own. He felt kind of bad, lying to Keith, but he couldn’t know Lance was a witch. No matter how beautiful he was, Lance couldn’t let him know that.

Lance sighed when he closed the cottage door, resting against the thick wood. From the kitchen table, Blue purred.

_ “And where have you been?”  _ She asked, stretching out her body. Lance let out a contented sigh and went to pour himself some tea.

“Just out…” He only told a half-truth, sitting at the table. Blue gave him a pointed look. “I… met someone. Helped him.”

_ “And how did you do that?”  _ Her voice was confused and intrigued. Lance tried to shrug nonchalantly.

“I stitched up his thumb and helped his horse’s broken leg. He’s meeting me at the river tomorrow while I do laundry,” Excitement crept into his tone and he stood, going to fix himself a meal. “Oh, Blue, he was angelic. He could barely look at his horse without crying and had to have me do it. With those beautiful violet eyes full of tears, he looked like art. Like a painting, a God-”

_ “Oh dear. Adam’s been gone all of an hour and you’ve fallen in love with a farmer boy,”  _ Blue chastised him. Lance clicked his tongue as he dug around in their kitchen, pulling out a large basket. He figured he could bring a lunch out to the river tomorrow; no need in walking all the way back to the house after washing his clothes… he could let them dry by the river.

“He isn’t a farmer, I don’t think. Maybe a hunter-gatherer? He lives out in the woods,” He explained, packing a loaf of orange bread Adam had made, as well as a bottle of sunflower wine. “All I know is that he’s one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen, and I’m very much looking forward to seeing more of him.”

_ “Not too much more. Adam tasked me with protecting you while he’s gone. That means all of you; including your purity.” _

“Blue!” He blushed, looking at his familiar. “I’m not, I didn’t plan on, oh, Blue!”

His familiar hopped down and rubbed against his legs, heading up the stairs, no doubt to Lance’s room. Packing a few pomegranates, Lance closed the basket and set it on the table. He hadn’t planned on having  _ sex  _ with Keith. Well, he was very attractive and if he were to suggest having sex, Lance wasn’t sure if he’d say no, but that meant nothing, right? Inanna help him. Shaking his head, he began collecting his laundry in another basket, telling himself he was just going to meet a friend the next day, and that was that.

As long as he kept repeating that mantra in his head, he’d be fine.

* * *

The morning was cool and Lance tied his cloak around his shoulders before leaving, telling Blue he’d be back by midday. He’d fed Red that morning and spoke to her a little, wanting her to feel at home with him. It was sad to have to take the horse from her rightful owner, but there was no way he could have healed her and just given her back. So he patted her rump and headed through the forest, down worn trails he and Adam had walked many times. He could hear babbling water in the distance and he smiled, stepping over an exposed tree root. Under his breath, he muttered a quiet tune, to fill the quiet morning air. It was weird, walking without his mentor, but it was just a week, he told himself. Just a week.

Stepping out into the river clearing felt comfortable. The cool water ran downstream, out of Altea and into the lands that once were Daibazaal. Setting his food basket up on a tree limb, he took his things to the riverside and knelt, removing his washing brush and soapweed yucca roots. He picked up a piece of clothing from his basket and got to work, the same little walking song he’d sung leaving his lips.

“Go to sleep you little baby, go to sleep you little baby. Your momma's gone away and your daddy's gone to stay, didn't leave nobody but the baby,” He sang, wringing the water out of his clothes. Slipping out of his cloak, he tossed it to the side, knowing he’d work up a sweat doing this. “Go to sleep you little baby, go to sleep you little baby. Everybody's gone in the cotton and the corn, didn't leave nobody but the baby…”

Behind him, he heard leaves rustling and plants moving. He smiled, not turning around to face Keith, instead continuing his laundry.

“You're a sweet little baby, you're a sweet little baby. Honey in the rock and the sugar don't stop, gonna bring a bottle to the baby,” He flicked a piece of his clothing out, before dunking it into the river. Footsteps slowly walked toward him. “Don't you weep pretty baby, don't you weep pretty baby. She's long gone with the red shoes on, gonna meet another lovin baby...”

Keith kneeled next to him and he finally looked over at him, smiling. “Hi, Keith. How’s your thumb?”

“Oh, uh,” He held up his hand as if he had forgotten. “Good. Doesn’t hurt at all. You’re… really good at what you do, you know.”

Of course, it didn’t hurt, Lance had performed a spell to remove any and all pain from the wound. He’d used the kiss as cover to whisper the words into his skin. Still, he nodded and laid out his washed clothes next to himself.

“Good,” He said, giving Keith a small once over. The day previous, he hadn’t looked at his clothes, instead focusing on how beautiful he was. Keith wore a grey shirt and black overcoat, as well as black pants. Leather gloves covered his hands and he wore thick boots of the same leather. He didn’t look like a typical hunter, but Lance wasn’t one to judge someone’s personal style.

“You’re a good singer,” Keith said, purple eyes flicking down to Lance’s lips, quick, but not so quick that Lance didn’t notice.

“Thank you,” Had it been anyone else, Lance would have been boastful, bragging on how often he practiced and how his voice could bring spirits to a grinding halt. Instead, heat filled his cheeks and he looked back to his washing. “I, I sing when I do chores.”

“By all means, don’t let me stop you.”

Looking up, Lance met Keith’s eye and nodded, humming softly to get his song started again. He lifted a sheet from the water, twirling it around his fingers and wringing some of the water out.

“Don't you weep pretty baby, don't you weep pretty baby. You and me and the devil makes three, don't need no other lovin’ baby,” He sang, watching as Keith leaned back, watching him out of the corners of his eyes. Crushing more of the soaproot, he lathered up another article of clothing. “Go to sleep you little baby, go to sleep you little baby. Come and lay your bones on the alabaster stones and be my ever lovin baby.”

He reached the last thing in his basket, washing it up and ringing it out. All of his laundry was laid out under the sun, on the bank of the river. Smiling, he looked over to Keith.

“All done,” He packed the rest of his soaproot and his brush away, closing the lid to his laundry basket. Keith gave him a friendly look- that was  _ it _ , it was just friendly, he definitely didn’t need to read into how incredibly attractive Keith looked with his eyebrow quirked like that- and shrugged.

“What now?”

“Well,” Lance stood, holding his hand down to Keith. “I packed lunch, I knew I’d have to wait for my clothes to dry and I didn’t want to walk all the way back home.”

“Mind if I join you?” Keith took his hand and stood, dropping the witch’s hand. Lance desperately tried to ignore how warm his skin felt where Keith had touched it.

“Not at all.”

Lance laid out a quilt he and Adam had sewn, setting out the food he’d brought. Keith laughed when he brought out two glasses.

“Planning ahead?” He asked, making Lance blush.

“Wishful thinking, maybe,” He admitted, pouring them each a glass. Keith settled on the quilt, lying on his side, propped up on one of his arms. He broke off a piece of bread and took a bite.

“This is good,” He told Lance, smirking. “Are you just naturally predisposed to be good at everything you do?”

“No!” Lance laughed, shaking his head. “My brother made this bread actually. Baking with cranberries and oranges is a total Adam thing.”

“Do you not bake?” He asked.

“I did, once. Almost burnt our entire house down in the process,” He said over the rim of his glass, making Keith laugh. “However, I only managed to burn most of our kitchen down.”

“Well, that’s a stroke of luck,” A hand patted his knee. “A minimal amount of damage to bake what exactly?”

“A cake,” He said pitifully, making Keith laugh yet again. Lance pushed his shoulder. “I tried my best, okay? I was only 11, can you really blame me? I think the blame should be on Adam, for entrusting me to  _ not  _ burn the house down.”

“Oh, now I’m on your side. Your brother made a very bad decision to trust you,” He joked, making Lance roll his eyes. “He sounds like my brother. Has all the faith in the world in me, just for me to mess it all up.”

“In hunting?” He asked, making Keith look a little taken aback. “Sorry for assuming, you’re just wearing animal skin and you live in the forest, I just assumed you were a hunter.”

Something passed over Keith’s face, a few emotions at once. Confusion, anger and… disgust? Then it passed, and he picked up his glass, drinking some of his wine. “I am a hunter, yes,” He then leaned in closer to Lance. “But if I can tell you the truth?”

“Always,” He said instantly, wanting Keith to trust him.

“I’ve never killed anything. Not a fish, not a bug, not an animal.” He admitted, making Lance gape at him.

“You’re kidding,” He said. Keith shook his head.

“Never. I’ve never wanted to. But I’m expected to, it's the way of life, you know? Kill or be killed. But the thought of… taking a life… it makes me feel sick. I don’t think I could do it, even if I had to. Maybe I could wound something, in self-defense… but never kill,” He sighed.

Lance nodded, he understood that, feeling pressured into things. “I… understand. My brother, he wants me to be like him for the rest of my life, follow in his footsteps. I know he just wants me to be successful and happy, but sometimes, I feel like he still sees me as a little kid.”

Keith nudged him. “That’s family.”

A small smile graced Lance’s face and he nodded, looking over Keith. There was something so magnetic about him, something that made Lance want to dive into him headfirst. Which was ridiculous, seeing as how he knew next to nothing about him. Adjusting, he laid down by Keith, in the same position on his side. The man smiled at him.

“Hi,” He greeted, making Lance giggle.

“Hi,” He said back, picking up one of the grapes he’d packed. “Can I ask why I’ve never seen you around before? I’ve lived out here my whole life.”

“Just moved,” Keith sighed. “I didn’t really want to, but Shiro said so, and what big brother says, goes. So here I am.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I have to say, I never knew the land out here was so… beautiful.” He told Lance. “We passed by some amazing things on the way out here. Fields of sunflowers higher than your head and lavender waving so slowly, it looked like the ocean. I got to see wild horses graze and farmers tend their fields methodically. There’s life out here, more than I’d ever known.”

“And it doesn’t stop there,” Lance said, smiling as he thought of some of the things he and Adam had seen. “The mountains between Altea and Arus never stop snowing. And in Puig, the ocean crashes against the shore at all hours, and fisherman shout to land come morning. The trees in Olkari grow higher than the palace walls, and the Balmeran spice markets are so rich with smells, you could get high off of them.”

“You’ve been a lot of places,” Keith mused. “Yet you stay in Altea.”

“Well I’m only 17,” He sighed, rolling onto his back. “And even if I were an adult, Adam would never let me go out on my own.”

“Why?” Keith asked, looking down at him.

“He wants to protect me.”

Keith leaned over him, blocking his view of the blue sky. That was okay, though, because this view was just as good. The dark hair Keith hadn’t tied up fell around his face and the sun lit him from behind like a halo. Purple eyes glinted in the light, but Lance wasn’t afraid of them. Pale fingers traced his cheekbone.

“I think you’re plenty capable of protecting yourself,” Keith murmured, eyes on Lance’s lips again. The teen witch swallowed hard. “I doubt you need someone watching your every move.”

“I-I could say the same for you,” Lance whispered, as if talking louder would break the tension in the air between them. Keith chuckled softly.

“I wouldn’t mind,” A calloused thumb traced his bottom lip and Lance swore he was trembling. “If it were someone like you.”

Warm lips covered his own and Lance gasped, wanting to revel in how rough Keith’s lips felt against his own, in how he tasted like oranges, in how good it felt to have his arm near his head. The kiss was unworried, the gentle moving of their mouths lost underneath the sound of the river. Keith broke away and Lance bit the inside of his lip, watching the hunter lean back into his position.

“Do you believe in fate, Lance?” Keith asked, and Lance, once he caught his breath, responded.

“Yes,” He said honestly. Keith let out a breathy laugh.

“I didn’t.”

They folded Lance’s laundry together, their thighs pressed against one another as they worked as if they weren’t touching enough. Lance stacked his things inside the basket and loaded his arms up, turning to face Keith.

“I want to see you again,” It was bad, it was very bad how desperately Lance wanted to see him, touch him, kiss him again.

Keith nodded. “Me too. Tonight?”

“I have a curfew,” He did, but Adam wasn’t home, so no one  _ said  _ he had to follow it. Keith reached out and held his jaw.

“So do I,” He told him. “Ignore it.”

His heart fluttered and he nodded, grinning when Keith gave him a smile of approval. Another kiss was pressed to his lips, and Lance fought the urge to toss his things to the ground to hold him.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Keith breathed into his mouth. “Meet me by the sunflower field.”

“I will,” Lance whispered. “I promise.”

When he arrived home, Blue gave him a quiet growl, crossing the living room to rub at the boy’s legs. Bending, he scratched her head, retracting his hand when she let out a soft hiss.

“What’s your problem?” He asked, setting down his laundry. The familiar flicked her tail angrily.

_ “You haven’t taken me on any of these little excursions. I do not appreciate being left out of the loop, as you would say,”  _ She chided him. He scoffed and waved a hand at her worry.

“Blue, you don’t have to go with me everywhere. Sometimes it's nice to be out on my own,” He defended himself as he unpacked his laundry.

_ “I am meant to protect you. And how can I do so when you won’t let me observe your life?” _

“Fine. Tonight, I’m meeting him again. You can tag along in a basket or something,” He offered, making her nod a little.

_ “Wonderful.” _

The cauldron in the center of their kitchen bubbled and rolled and Lance raised a brow, walking over to it. He hadn’t started a potion; hell, there wasn’t even a fire going. Still, the brew rumbled to life and Lance looked at Blue.

“Know what this is?” He asked.

_ “Not at all.” _

Hovering his hands over the fire, he closed his eyes, trying to pick up on any energy that could be found. Warmth flowed through him as he focused, fuzzy words in his ears becoming clearer with time.

“Lance, this call I make to you, to pierce your thoughts, strong and true. The first move has always been mine, so contact me, it is your time,” Adam’s voice rang out in his head and he groaned, running a hand down his face before touching the brew with his finger, allowing his mentor to come through. In the pot, Adam’s face appeared, looking relieved.

“Lance! I just got the opportunity to call, I’m sorry,” He explained. “We’re just reaching the forests of Olkari, and we ran into a witch of the woods who let me use her cauldron to call you.”

“Hey Adam,” He greeted, secretly kind of happy to hear from his mentor. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“How have you been? Have you been practicing any?” His questions were instantaneous, and Lance took his previous thought about missing him back.

“Yes, I’ve practiced some healing, actually, as well as a siren song,” He said truthfully.

Adam looked impressed. “Healing what?”

“I came across a horse with a broken leg, and I healed her. She’s mine now, she’s out in the barn. I call her Red,” He explained, pulling over his laundry basket and deciding he could sort while he spoke to Adam.

“Ah. And the siren song?”

“I went down to the river to do laundry, and one just came to me. So I sang while I worked.”

“That’s dangerous, you know,” His mentor had that stupid, know-it-all tone that Lance hated. “Singing a siren song without anyone there to watch. What if you’d called someone?”

_ Someone like Keith _ . He thought with a smirk. “I was safe, Adam. I checked my surroundings and said a prayer to Baphomet before I started. And look, here I am, not a scratch on me. I’m doing fine.”

His mentor looked suspicious, and a little worried. “You know I worry. I want you to be safe, even if I’m not there to look after you.”

“I know, Adam. But this proves I can do it.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see how the rest of the week goes,” Adam muttered, shaking his head. “Anyway, I’ll see you on Sunday. Be safe, keep up your practice and please, don’t touch the oven. I made enough bread for you to last three weeks.”

“That was one time Adam!” He chastised him. “But fine. I’ll be careful.”

“I love you, Lance,” He said, looking at him with shining eyes.  _ That  _ was when the guilt hit, that he hadn’t told Adam about meeting Keith, how he wasn’t planning on telling him. His mentor would take that news like an arrow in the gut. Growing up, he’d shared everything with Adam, and learning that the child he’d treated like a brother was hiding things from him… it may be too much to bear. He’d tell him. Eventually. After he returned from Olkari. He could introduce them properly then, and Adam would no doubt love him. After all, why wouldn’t he love someone who made Lance that happy? “Lance?”

“Oh, sorry, lost in thought,” Shaking his head, he smiled back. “I love you too, Adam. Call again soon?”

“Of course.”

Adam touched the brew and disappeared, the cauldron drying up instantly. With his things sorted, he stood and headed to return them to their rightful places, Blue on his heels.

_ “So, how are we preparing for our midnight excursion?”  _ She asked and Lance snorted, closing their linen closet.

“ _ You  _ are doing nothing.  _ I  _ am going to bathe,” He told her, making her purr excitedly.

_ “Is it that kind of excursion?” _

“No! We met two days ago Blue, I’m not so ready to give my virginity up,” He clicked his tongue at her, grabbing a towel. “Wait, aren’t you supposed to be protecting my purity?”

_ “Yes, but how lecherous of a tale to tell Hyacinth when she arrives home. You, a virgin witch, lying with a hunter under the stars. Ooh, her feathers would fall out in envy.”  _ His familiar laughed. Shaking his head, Lance led her out their backdoor to the washtub, pressed against the side of the house. Hanging his towel on a mounted hook, he took down a galvanized bucket from above the tub.

Stepping out of their home glamour was strange every time. To look back one moment and see a well-lived in cottage with a barn and garden, and then the next, seeing just an empty slope could mess with you. Still, he followed the trail into the woods, Blue not a step behind.

“Illusions so tricky, it makes me sigh, illusions become easy to the naked eye,” He chanted as he walked, listening. Bells rang on the air and he followed the noise to a grey stone well, hooking his bucket on. Slowly, he lowered the bucket down, Blue hopping up to watch. “What do you think, Blue? Will the water be hot or cold today?”

_ “An auspicious sign, based on your recent meeting. Only time will tell.” _ She and Lance leaned over the lip of the well, looking down inside, knowing they wouldn’t see. If the water was cool, Lance would be happy. Cold water meant good things, such as fertility and happiness. Once the bucket was full, Lance began cranking it back up.

Resting the bucket on the side of the well, his fingertips brushed the side, and he gasped at the short burn the metal gave him. Slowly, he dipped his small finger into the water. It was hot, insanely hot to the touch. He looked at Blue, who chirped quietly at him.

“Goddamn it,” He sighed, picking the bucket up to carry it back. The best part about witch wells was that one bucket was enough to fill a whole washtub. He dumped the hot water in and tossed in a few herbs; some lavender for peace, mint for luck, and marigold for love. Not that he loved Keith but… a little extra help couldn’t hurt. After stripping down, he sank into the metal tub with a sigh.

“What do you think about the witch well, Blue?” He asked. Though the hot water wasn’t a good sign, he had to admit, it felt good to soak in. 

_ “Not a good sign,”  _ She said honestly.  _ “I wouldn’t go tonight if I were you.” _

“Oh, Blue, surely you aren’t the type to get spooked by an old wives tale. No one even knows how witch wells work, let alone if they’re accurate,” He waved a hand at her. “I’m still going.”

_ “Something told me you’d say that.” _

Lance hummed and picked up his soap, lathering up his arms. “Don’t ever laugh as a hearse goes by, for you may be the next to die. They wrap you up in a big white sheet, from your head down to your feet.”

_ “Must you sing such a morbid siren song?”  _ Blue huffed, making him laugh.

“I like this one!” He defended himself, continuing. “They put you in a big black box and cover you up with dirt and rocks. And all goes well for about a week, and then your coffin begins to leak. And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinochle on your snout. They eat your eyes, they eat your nose, they eat the jelly between your toes.”

Humming along with the rest of the song, he dunked his head underwater, running his fingers through his hair. Blue whispered in his mind.

_ “Quiet. I think your siren song worked a little too well; someone is nearby,”  _ She warned him. Breaking the surface of the water, he shook out his hair, looking at the cat sitting, poised, on a nearby stool.

Sure enough, from the path near the front of the house, there were voices.

“I swore I heard singing not 30 seconds ago,” One man said, sounding confused. “I’m not getting anything now.”

“Maybe it was just the wind. I told you, there’s something weird about being out here,” The other man sounded familiar, comforting. Why did that voice sound so recognizable? The first man huffed a little.

“I guess you’re right. Come on, I’ll race you.”

Two horses galloped off and Lance let out a little sigh of relief, looking at his familiar. “Thanks, Blue.”

_ “No worries. But next time, can we stay away from siren songs?”  _ She asked, making Lance laugh.

“Definitely.”

* * *

Standing in his bedroom, Lance tossed aside another piece of clothing, sure it wasn’t right either. From her place on his tiny bed, Blue stretched out her legs and kneaded at his blue quilt.

_ “And what was wrong with that one, if I may ask?”  _ She purred, settling down near the center of his mattress.

“Too green. Seriously, do I not own anything that would make Keith fall to his knees for me?” He asked her, frustrated. The familiar chirped, a little mockingly, and he glared at her. “Not in that way.”

_ “Why not wear the white? You always look radiant in white, and should you lose your purity tonight, it would be rather fitting, would it not?”  _ She offered, flicking her tail towards a pile of cloth near the foot of his bed. Crossing the room on bare feet, he picked up the clothing and walked to his mirror.

The draped tunic was white in color with silver embroidery wrapped around the asymmetric hemline. It was beautiful, with a braided sash around the waist. Adam had made it for him for Ostara two years ago, and luckily, it still fit. Slowly, he turned around, picturing how he’d look. Maybe with a little makeup and the right cloak…

_ “Oh Gods, he’s found the one,”  _ Blue teased as he slid the tunic on over his head and pulled on a grey pair of pants. After fastening on a protection sigil necklace, he grabbed soft flat shoes. Tightening up the belt, he dug out his silver cloak- that Adam had made him swore he’d only wear for rituals and holidays, but what Adam didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him -and draped it over his shoulders, tying up the front. He picked up a basket and laid a blanket down inside it, whistling for Blue, who hopped in.  _ “So, should I be expecting a tale for Hyacinth?” _

“We’ll see,” He said noncommittally, heading downstairs. A glance was cast at the cauldron in the center of the room, quiet. His mind went to Adam, how only a few hours ago they’d spoken, his mentor and brother so proud and loving of him. Adam had raised him, taught him everything he knew and loved him like his own family. A pit of guilt sat in his stomach like a toad as he opened the front door, stepping out into their garden, the well-worn path leading to the dirt road. Taking a deep breath, he stepped through the shimmering glamour. The night was cool but not cold as he headed south, tracing patterns in the clear stars. He’d never done this before, snuck out to do anything, let alone meet anyone. His heart was pounding in his ears when he saw the first yellow bulb over the horizon. Moving through the early night mist, he came over the crest of a hill to see the dark shape of Keith. He stood looking down the road, fingers fiddling with themselves. It made Lance giggle softly.

Looking up, Keith met his eye and he smiled, walking down the hill to him, moving slowly as an apparition. Keith wore a mask of awe when Lance reached his side, a calloused hand slotting around his small waist.

“I’ve always been skeptical of angels,” Keith whispered, pulling the smaller male into his chest, Lance’s hands steadying himself on firm pecs. “But I know now, they’re real.”

“I’m sure you say that to every pretty boy you come across,” Lance’s voice was soft as well, leaning in to press a kiss to Keith’s pale lips.

“No,” He disagreed, breath fanning across Lance’s lower face. “Just you.”

They met in a kiss so passionate, it felt like the ground had fallen out from under Lance. Keith’s hand gripped his waist and his other cradled his neck, keeping control of the way they moved together. As if Lance would do anything but follow. His senses were drowning in a wave of  _ Keith _ , from his firm grip to his oaky scent and the way his teeth worried Lance’s bottom lip. His heart pounded when the raven pulled away to look at him, a lazy smile on his face.

“Hi,” Lance greeted lamely, not knowing how to follow up the poetry Keith had just spoken. The other man laughed quietly, the rough skin of his thumb dragging across Lance’s bottom lip.

“Hey. Thank you for coming.”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have missed it. If I had, assume I died,” He said honestly, making Keith laugh again. Even  _ if  _ he’d died, Lance wouldn’t have missed this. He knew enough necromancy to bring himself back- he’d brought Adam back a time or two, but those were mostly because Lance had been the cause of his death, accidentally, of course- and he would have been right here, in Keith’s arms.

“Should we go in?” Keith asked, looking into the sunflowers. Nodding, Lance parted a few stems, holding his hand out to Keith as he stepped through. “Lead the way.”

Leading Keith through the sunflowers was intimate in a way that it wasn’t two days ago. When he’d stitched Keith’s thumb, the man had been muttering curses under his breath and stumbling over rocks and roots the whole time. Now, as fog settled over the cooling Earth, Lance felt like a druid, leading the parents of a new witch out of the forest of Varadero and into the world. He smiled at the thought. Maybe he could be a druid. He’d like that.

Lance dropped Keith’s hand in the clearing to open his basket, jumping a little when Blue leaped out and onto the ground, making disgruntled noises at him.

_ “I do not appreciate being confined during important events, Lance.”  _ She scolded him, making him wave his hand at her.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” He pulled the blanket from the basket, carefully unfolding it. Keith kneeled, looking at Blue.

“She’s beautiful,” He complimented, holding his hand out to her carefully. “What’s her name?”

Lance watched with fond eyes as his familiar slowly approached Keith, sniffing his hand daintily, before dropping his head for Keith to scratch. “Blue. My brother got her for me when I turned 13.”

“I have a pet too, he’s hanging out somewhere around here.” Standing, Keith put two fingers in his mouth and let out a high pitched whistle that echoed across the dreamy night. Lance, now having laid out the blanket he’d brought, lit the few candles he’d wrapped up. “He’ll be coming soon.”

“What’s his name?” He asked, setting the candles close enough to illuminate, but far enough to not fall over.

“Kosmo. I think it suits him,” Keith said as he settled back onto the ground. “Nice setup.”

“I figured we’d appreciate some light,” Lance shrugged, taking his hood off. Keith’s eyes tracked his movements as he untied his cloak, letting the garment fall behind him. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

“I-I think that’s appropriate,” He agreed, making the witch huff softly in amusement. Leaning forward, Lance licked his lips before pressing them to Keith’s, sighing softly when a hand found the back of his head. The kiss was leisurely but not boring, intimate in the way the night was. Keith sat forward a little and wrapped his arm around Lance’s waist, pulling him forward, almost into his lap-

Something burst through the flowers and Blue yowled, causing Lance to fall backward, panting. There stood a large wolf, standing at least two and a half feet high, with symmetric grey markings flowing through white fur. Gold eyes locked onto Lance and he felt the need to turn away from that intense stare. The animal wouldn’t look away from him though, so Lance didn’t either.

“There you are!” Keith exclaimed, finally catching the wolf’s attention. “I was wondering where you ran off to. Did you catch that deer?”

The wolf- Kosmo, Lance could only assume -walked to Keith and sat down, laying his head in the lap of his master. Blue spoke to him frantically, her tone panicked, which was not normal for her.

_ “We need to leave, now. I knew there was something off about this mystery hunter. Lance, quickly, while they’re distracted-!” _

Turning, he looked confusedly at his familiar, speaking to her reapproachingly in his mind. “What are you talking about? Sure, the wolf was a bit of a surprise, but if Keith trusts him, then so do I.”

_ “No, you don’t understand, that’s-” _

“Lance?” Keith cut Blue off, making the witch turn to face him. “This is Kosmo, my pet and hunting buddy. Kosmo, this is Lance.”

The wolf sat stone-still, staring Lance down. Slowly, the witch approached him.

“Hi… it’s nice to meet you. Sorry I’m taking away your time with your master,” The wolf huffed and, did he roll his eyes? No, the low light just had to be playing tricks on him. Holding a hand out, Lance waited for the wolf’s reaction. Kosmo looked at his hand, then back at Keith, then back to Lance, before giving his hand a soft snuff with his snout. Seeming satisfied, he plodded over to the hole he’d created in the sunflowers and laid down, crushing the buds. Lance winced. He’d heal them later.

“Now that we’re all here,” Keith chuckled, looking back at Lance. “Where were we?”

Sighing, Lance looked at his familiar. Blue was overreacting. Keith was a sweet hunter who wasn’t so good at hunting, who just so happened to have a dangerous predator as a pet. So what? Stranger things have happened, that could be agreed on. So he crawled to Keith and straddled his legs, draping his arms over broad shoulders.

“Somewhere around… here?” He asked, feeling hands grip his waist.

“Yeah… that feels about right.”

Lance wasn’t sure how kissing Keith made him feel like he was floating every time, but it did. Now, he wasn’t so sure Blue  _ wouldn’t  _ have a story for Hyacinth, because the feeling of Keith’s fingers kneading his hips and the solid mass of Keith’s legs underneath him and just being completely surrounded and covered by Keith was making him dizzy. Slowly, the male under him lifted to his knees and Lance clung to his shoulders as he was supported in Keith’s lap, feeling the first press of Keith’s tongue to his lips and Inanna, help him. Opening his mouth, he allowed Keith in and shuddered when the man took the invitation in stride. His tongue explored Lance’s mouth like he was mapping it, committing every piece of him to memory as if this were all a dream. Keith felt like a dream.

And Gods, if this was a dream, Lance never wanted to wake up.

The solid ground underneath his back made him gasp when suddenly he was surrounded by Keith, an arm near his head, stray strands of hair falling around his face. A large hand squeezed his thigh and Lance groaned, tipping his head back to let the sound free into the chilly air. Keith puffed a laugh against his cheek and pressed a toothy kiss there.

“God, Lance,” He breathed, lips moving across the exposed column of Lance’s throat. “What are you doing to me? I feel like I’m high.”

Lance knew what a high felt like. He knew how it felt to enter Varadero, to attend a mass ritual, to fly for the first time. Adrenaline coursing, blood roaring, heart pounding in your chest; that’s what a high felt like to Lance. 

This was not a high.

_ This  _ was a compulsion, an obsession, a  _ need  _ to feel the rasp of Keith’s teeth on his throat or the tug of his hand in his hair. Now that Lance knew what it felt like, to feel like a precious stone deep in the cavern of a cave witch, protected and sealed and captured by the person who found it, he was sure he’d die without it. If he never heard the way Keith spoke low in his ear, like the first rumble of thunder before a summer storm again, he’d die. Should something happen and he die tomorrow, he’d die happy knowing he was able to be  _ conquered  _ by the man above him.

A bite to his throat made him moan, caught off guard. Purple eyes glinted up at him as Keith marked his throat in deep red bruises that Lance hoped would last forever. Slim fingers gripped dark hair as he keened, arching into Keith. A couple of marks later and Keith returned to his lips, kissing him slower, which Lance was secretly glad for. He really didn’t need to get a boner in clothes that were so easy to move.

When they parted, Lance admired Keith’s face. His ponytail mussed now, dark strands hung around and framed his pale skin. With lips swollen and red from overuse and face flushed with blood, the witch had to wonder how he got so lucky to have met Keith. He’d have to thank the Fates and the Holy Octet as soon as he got the chance. Reaching up, he tucked a piece of Keith’s hair behind his ear, the man turning to press a kiss to Lance’s palm.

“I wish I could stay,” Keith whispered, looking at Lance with hooded eyes. “But I can’t push my brother waking up to notice I’m gone.”

“I understand,” It was true, but that didn’t mean Lance was happy about it. Keith sat up and Lance followed, lacing their fingers together. “Will I see you again?”

“Of course,” Keith’s words were instant. It made Lance smile. “Tomorrow night, here. I’ll be back for you.”

Lance felt like his body was made of honey then. Warm and sweet, he nodded, knowing he’d come back every night for the rest of his life if it meant he could have Keith again. The raven smiled and kissed him, whispering against his no doubt cherry-colored lips.

“I promise, I’ll be back for you. Will you be?”

“Believe me,” He breathed, fingers tracing the sharp cut of Keith’s jaw. “I wouldn’t miss it.”


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance considers how things have gone thus far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise we're going to get another Keith chapter soon, I just write Lance-centric stories a lot so it's hard to break free from that. Anyway, welcome back! This chapter has a lot of religion based stuff as well as some genocide, so be warned reading forward. Also, we finally get some porny stuff in this chapter! Oh, and to answer a few questions; the reason Keith and Lance are moving so fast is because this is kind of meadevil setting, so lifespan is shorter (for humans at least). Siren songs are just songs that are said to attract people. And the whole necromancy thing is explained in this chpater. Otherwise, enjoy the chapter and if you have anymore questions, let me know! I hope you enjoy, I am un-beta'd and unedited.

_ [Lance] _

As it went, the pair continued to meet up at night, and Lance’s anxiety about sneaking out seemed to lessen over time. He was only sneaking out of an empty house, whereas Keith had to leave his sleeping brother who was an expert tracker. If Shiro had woken up at any point during the night and found Keith missing, the raven was very sure his brother would have found the two of them quickly. Still, they found each other in the cool October air, under the veil of fog and the calling of owls.

Keith laid above him, as it had come to pass when they laid together, hand wrapped around one of Lance’s slim thighs, lips worrying at any inch of unmarked skin he could find. The witch moaned softly, tugging at Keith’s hair, who groaned in kind. Fingers crept up Lance’s leg and towards the hemline of his pants and Lance gasped as warm fingers came in contact with the soft skin of his lower belly-

Quickly, Lance caught his hand, making Keith jerk back a little, looking down at him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, turning his hand over to thread his fingers in Lance’s. “Did I hurt you?”

“N-No! No,” He insisted, biting the inside of his lip nervously. “It’s just, um…”

How was he supposed to explain this? He and Blue had been talking about it, sex, and the logistics of it when it came to two men, which she insisted that he know. He liked the idea, really, of him and Keith having sex, knowing one another on such a deep level, connecting their very souls through intimacy… but what if something went wrong? What if Keith was experienced, went too fast for him, hurt him? What if it went well, but the time for his coronation came, and the Holy Octet rejected him? What if Keith wasn’t even interested in having sex with him? The last thought seemed far fetched, but still, he was concerned.

“You can talk to me, Lance,” Keith assured him, smoothing his knuckles over Lance’s tan freckled cheek. “You can tell me anything.”

Oh, if only that were true.

Swallowing hard, Lance breathed out a sigh. “Okay, um… I, before you, I was… completely a virgin. Never had sex, never kissed anyone, never done  _ anything _ . And I like you! I really like you, Keith, I love that you were my first kiss and you’ll probably be my first time but what I’m trying to say is not… yet,” He ended softly.

Violet eyes studied him cooly, looking over his blushing cheeks and nervously twitching hands. Keith nodded and bent down, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for telling me. And, in the spirit of admitting things… I’m a virgin too.”

Lance’s eyebrows shot up. “What? You’re kidding!”

“Nope, I’m not,” Keith laughed at Lance’s reaction. “I was just kind of acting on instinct? I was doing what felt right, basically.”

“It  _ definitely  _ felt right,” The witch assured him, biting his lip. “So… it’s okay if we… wait?”

“It’s completely okay. Whenever you’re ready, Lance, I’d be happy to take that dive with you,” He leaned back down, into Lance’s space again. “That is if you’d like me to.”

“I would,” He breathed. “I really would.”

Their lips met again and Lance sighed, grabbing at the short hair at the base of Keith’s neck. It was a soft kiss, falling back into the rhythm they’d established, one of tongues and hushed whispers of pleasure between them. Lance’s hand found Keith’s ass and squeezed, making the bigger of the two moan quietly.

“You don’t want to have sex now,” Keith murmured, moving to lay a little lower onto Lance. “But how about this?”

Confused, Lance opened his mouth to question Keith but was cut off by the most delicious and  _ sinful  _ roll of Keith’s hips into his own. He could feel the harsh swell of Keith’s erection against his own and there were lips on his ear and Gods, this was incredible. His hips, reacting on their own volition, pressed upward as Keith’s pelvis rolled down and a duet of groaning filled the air around them. Dropping down onto his elbows above him, Keith kissed him deeply, muffling Lance’s needy whines with his tongue. Lance closed his eyes so tight he saw stars in his vision, panting when Keith set his lips free, tongue rolling as he lost himself in pleasure.

“Oh, f-fuck Keith, please don’t stop,” He begged, hands gripping Keith’s shoulders like a vice. Keith panted heavily in his ear and it made Lance moan.

“Lance, God, you’re so pretty underneath me, you sound so fucking good,” He panted, making Lance keen under the praise. His nails dug into Keith’s shoulders and he leaned up, attaching his lips to Keith’s neck to suck. Keith had a thing for marking Lance up- the constellation of bruises and bite marks on his shoulders and neck was strong proof of it -but Lance had never tried it. He bit at the pale flesh of Keith’s throat, reveling in the moan that left his partner. A hand cradled his neck to keep him there and oh, Keith liked it, he guessed. “That’s it baby, fuck, you’re so good for me Lance.”

The way Keith said his name made his insides melt. He moaned into his neck, marring the flesh and listening for Keith’s punched out groans and whispered words of approval. He could feel his sex pulsating, Keith’s rough grinding against him making his toes curl and eyes roll back. Gods, it was so good, he could cum.

Pulling off of Keith’s neck, Lance laid out under him, watching how his eyebrows came together and his teeth caught his bottom lip, biting hard down into his skin and  _ no _ , Lance wanted to do that. Surging up, he caught Keith in a harsh kiss right as lightning erupted beneath his skin. He bucked up into Keith’s hips with a rough gasp, tongues and teeth clashing as Keith thrust himself against Lance. Tan hands found Keith’s hair and Lance tugged as he felt Keith finish against him, body jolting and seizing in fiery pleasure before relaxing down against him. He broke their kiss to push his face into Lance’s neck, their chorus of heavy breathing the only noise under the stray cricket in the grass. Panting, Lance stared at the stars, tracing familiar constellations to try and calm his orgasm rushed mind.

His eyes traced the stars as his fingers traced Keith’s scalp, drawing soft noises out of the man above him. Slowly, Keith pushed himself up to look down at Lance, cupping his cheek with a hand.

“Uh… how was it?” He said quietly, making Lance hum.

“Heavenly,” He answered. Keith chuckled and sighed, laying out beside Lance. The teen witch, now cold without the mass of his partner, rolled onto Keith’s chest, smiling when an arm wrapped around him. “How was it for you?”

“Perfect,” He told Lance, kissing the crown of his head. “You were perfect.”

It was a quiet moment, to lay beside Keith in the afterglow of orgasm. Fingers traced up his spine and Lance’s hands mapped out the expanse of Keith’s chest, the warmth of one another stolen away by the cool night.

“You’ll have to go soon,” Lance whispered, knowing that they couldn’t be together for too long. Keith sighed.

“I know. I wish I didn’t have to,” He said honestly, fingers catching Lance’s chin to make him look up. “One night, I’ll stay with you. From sundown to sun up.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise.”

Keith kissed him sweetly before sitting up, whistling for Kosmo. Lance sat up, hands clutching the blanket he’d brought, the same one he’d brought for the past two nights. The hunter righted himself and smiled at Lance, reaching out for him. He placed his tan hand into Keith’s pale one and blushed when his partner pressed a soft kiss to his skin.

“Until tomorrow.”

He left the field and Lance sighed, beginning to pack his things up, leaving Blue out of the basket as he walked through the night, listening to her chattering in his mind.

_ “Adam would lose his mind if he knew what you were doing this week! I can’t believe I get to bear witness to the sexual awakening of a young witch; Hyacinth is going to hate me for this, but I can’t bring myself to care. What will tomorrow bring? Fewer clothes, maybe the need for some oil?” _

“Calm down Blue,” Lance laughed, dropping the barrier to his home and heading in. “I honestly need to bathe tomorrow, I may head down to the river before it gets too cold to do that anymore.”

_ “You should invite Keith!” _

“To bathe with me?” Lance laughed incredulously, setting his basket down on the kitchen table. “And, what, show him my beautiful familiar bond? I’m sure he’d figure it out then.”

He still hadn’t told Keith he was a witch. And, honestly, he wasn’t looking forward to it. Keith wasn’t a threat, far from it, but he was a wild card. It was up in the air on how he could react to it. Maybe he’d be fine with it, curious like Hunk was. Maybe he’d want to try his hand at a potion or two, or visit Varadero to see what it’s actually like. The thought made him smile, dorky Keith fumbling through a putrefied potion or standing in the charged woods.

Then, there was the opposite. Keith could tell the church. Expose not only Lance, but Adam, possibly even the whole coven, as well as any witches lying along the border. Lance could be killed, caught and hung for all to see under the false God. Does Keith worship the false God? Is he… one of them? A chill ran down his spine as he closed the door to his bedroom, undressing and climbing into bed. What would happen if he told Keith? Things would change, no doubt, but for the better, or worse? His mind was troubled as his eyes drifted shut. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe Keith could learn to accept him, accept others, accept himself.

Maybe Lance could help him.

* * *

Lance awoke in a forest, surrounded by trees on all sides that stretched to the sky. Standing up, he glanced around the wood, searching for anything- or anyone -that would clue him into his sudden astral projection. The air was crisp and he shivered a little, rubbing his upper arms.

“Hello?” He called out, voice echoing across the forest in a way that clued him in to this just being a projection. Something moved in the brush behind him and he turned to see Adam, signature cloak draped over his head, candle in hand. When Lance saw him, he rushed him, tossing his arms around his mentor. “Adam!”

“Lance, Gods, I was looking everywhere, you know I’m still practicing astral projection,” He muttered, holding him tight to his chest. He felt so  _ real _ , which is why Lance loved projection; when two witches did it, they could touch and communicate with one another. Everything about Adam, his touch, his voice, even his smell was right. It was his mentor, in every sense of the word. Tears came to his eyes. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too,” He said into his shoulder, hiding his eyes so Adam couldn’t see just how much. “How’s Olkarion?”

“Just as always; full of herbalist witches and crystal specialists,” Adam laughed, pulling back to look at him. “And even though I miss you, I’m glad you didn’t come. It’s been… a lot.”

Lance had never borne witness to what Adam had gone to do. However, he’d heard stories, been told by other coven members exactly what was happening when the seven of them went into other lands. And Adam was right, it was a lot.

The way it was put was this; the entire race of Isla’s witches were dwindling in numbers. There were less than a thousand witches in all of the five kingdoms combined and that included witches in hiding. It was a sad fate, most of their predecessors having been murdered by witch hunters decades prior. And with the creation of the new hunters, the trackers and maimers, their race dwindled ever less. So, a counsel of coven leaders met to decide how to help their race, how to keep magic from dying out in the world, and how to prevent Isla from the trauma of birthing a new race yet again. And the decision they came across was this; should a coven dwindle in number, or feel the need to expand, all able-bodied, unwed, of age witches would travel to them to offer their services.

Basically, have week-long orgies between however many witches showed up.

Adam, wanted Lance as sheltered from sexuality as possible until he was 18, told Lance nothing of these events. Literally nothing, even if Lance asked him point-blank. His mentor was determined to keep Lance in the dark, until his coronation, in which, he told Lance, he’d tell him everything he wanted to know. In short, Adam had stonewalled him.

His coven had not.

Being the… sexually liberated people they were, Adam’s coven wasn’t afraid to tell Lance what went on during these events. After all, they reasoned, he would soon be a part of them. The traveling covens would arrive in the city of the hosting coven and would be taken to a home, cave, or forest far enough from the city that the combined magics wouldn’t alert any prophets of the false God. Then, the men of the traveling coven would try to impregnate as many witches as possible. The orgiastic event caused all forms of emotional magics to flow free, basically forming a protective barrier around the witches. And when the week was up, the barrier exploded out the magics to Isla and Inanna in thanks, before the covens parted ways. It was considered a holy event, blessed by Isla herself. Often, many children resulted as a course of these unions, who were either kept by the mother witch or given to a cave or woods dweller to raise and release into the world. It was a pretty good system, Lance thought, giving witches the right to choose whether or not they wanted to keep the children. Still… the idea of Adam having many unknown children across the five kingdoms put a bit of a rock in his gut.

“I’m sure it has,” Lance smiled, stepping back from his mentor. “Glad you’re having an eventful week. For the sake of Isla, of course.”

“Of course,” Adam parrotted, gesturing for Lance to sit. “Sit down, tell me how your week is going. Have you been thinking about your coronation, and which of the Octet you want to officialize yourself with?”

Sighing, Lance took a seat on the Earth, looking at the monstrous trees around them. “Kind of. Maybe I could work with Nephthys, and focus on necromancy. I always have had a hand for it.”

“Yes, and you have me to thank. You’ve killed me one too many times for my liking,” Adam chided him, making Lance laugh. “I’m serious! You kill me again, and I’ll come back just to do the same to you.”

“You wouldn’t kill me!” The teen insisted through laughter. “You aren’t confident enough in your necromancy to bring me back. That, and I don’t think you’re fast enough to catch a rabbit.”

“I’m sure a spellbook or two, as well as a trip through your apothecary, could help,” His mentor waved a hand at him. “But enough on that. I think that’s a wonderful path for you to take, Lance. We could always use more necromancers; not a lot of people have the stomach for it.”

“Maybe people don’t like the idea of turning a rabbit inside-out,” He suggested, making Adam shudder.

“You’re right, I don’t think I’d be able to kill you.”

Lance smiled softly, thinking back to his first night with Keith. How he felt leading him through the flowers, and how in touch with his spirituality he’d been in that moment. He swallowed a little roughly.

“Also… I was thinking… maybe I could become a druid.”

“A druid?” Adam sounded surprised. “You’ve never shown an interest in emotional or medicinal magics, where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know, maybe being alone has caused me to reflect. Being a druid, or a cave witch, or a wood dweller could be cool. I’d like to help witches bring about the new generation, or even raise a few myself.” He tried to justify himself, shrinking under Adam’s scrutinizing gaze.

“Hm… well… maybe we can look into it when I get back. But, you know those witches don’t have covens. They have no one to protect them and their children, but themselves. Could you really be happy that way?”

If it meant he and Keith could be hidden away together, he would be. He shrugged. “Maybe.”

Adam reached out and patted his knee. “Keep thinking about it. You know whatever you choose, I’m going to support you through it. I want you to be certain, though. I don’t want you wandering into Varadero with no direction whatsoever.”

“Adam… can I ask you a question?”

“Anything,” Adam said, his voice sounding a bit worried.

“What’s so bad about conjuring?” He asked, having all but forgotten it until he stumbled across Isla’s book again.

Sighing, his mentor leaned back away from him. “Damn that familiar for making you so curious.”

“Tell me.” The teen insisted, making Adam nod.

“Okay, okay. Conjuring. Back when Isla roamed the Earth, in her flesh form, it was a wasteland. Humans were destroying it, desecrating what Gaia had created, and gifted to our Holy Mother. It broke Isla’s heart to see how the other race was treating the land, tearing down trees and ripping up fields to make roads and houses. Murdering innocent animals for the sake of sport, and not honoring the life they had taken. So Isla went to Gaia and asked her to wipe out humans, give her a fresh start to create a race of people that would love and respect the Earth, treat it with dignity and kindness, as well as treating one another the same.”

“Us,” Lance supplied. “Witches.”

“Exactly. So Gaia agreed, only to be stopped by Baphomet. He wouldn’t allow the total destruction of the human race, for fear of the spirit realm becoming too hostile. Instead, he came up with a compromise; leave two humans, a male and a female, to repopulate, and hopefully not make the same mistakes they had before. Their memories were wiped and we were left with the ‘first people’ on Earth, according to the false God, Adam and Eve. It was then that Isla and our Holy Father Baphomet procreated to create the first witches, Lillith and Saul.

“For a while, things were fine. The children of the first four lived in harmony, and so did their children, and so did their children. Isla and Baphomet birthed many witches onto this Earth, and Adam and Eve recreated the human race. Witches and humans were able to coexist in this realm, with Isla acting as a guide, a mother to all whom she came across. But, soon the humans fell back into their old ways, praising the false God and cursing our Holy Octet. They met our peace with blades and pages of their sacrilegious book that burned us. Out the silver Gaia had gifted them they formed crossed that burnt us to the touch and caused our skin to blister and welt. Though this land was made for us all, they wanted it for themselves. And from the church of the false God came the first witch hunter, bred to find and kill us.

“The hunters weren’t successful at first, finding only tens of witches and slaughtering them, and lucky for us, Isla was still with us, still birthing more and more witches to breed the land. But one of them was smarter, more cunning than the rest. Clayton Kogane. He found our forest of Varadero and, using a captive witch, extracted its energy for himself. With his newfound powers, he was able to sense a witch nearby and kill them, calling on his false God to bind and trap us, before slaughtering us in cold blood. Now, witches were dying in hundreds, by the blade of Clayton Kogane, he decapitated our people and laughed over their dying bodies. Witches went into hiding. We stopped meeting publicly and relied on Isla and Baphomet to keep us safe. But Clayton… he found her book.”

“Isla’s book?” Lance asked, thinking of the thick leather spellbook hidden under his mattress.

With a grim face, Adam nodded. “He found Isla’s Holy Spellbook and using all the energy he’d stolen,  _ raped _ from us, he conjured her in the forest of Varadero, and cut the beautiful head of our mother off. Isla’s flesh form was dead, never able to be revived on this land. It wasn’t safe for our Octet here anymore and while they focused on bringing Isla’s spirit back, they fled this Earth. Clayton kept the book, one of only 8 copies in the world, and hid it away. Some say he mastered conjuring, and slain even more witches, powerful, revered ones that way. Some say he went mad with power and became a monster, no longer a man, but not a witch. He was a beast.”

Adam’s eyes held unshed tears and his teeth were grit. Reaching out, Lance gently touched his shoulder, shocked when his mentor wrenched him into his chest, pressing Lance’s face as close to him as he could.

“I lost my family to Clayton Kogane, to conjuring, and I won’t lose you too. Promise me, Lance… that you won’t ever try it. If I lose you… I’d lose every reason I still have to live.”

Lance nodded, clutching Adam tight, a few tears of his own creeping into his eyes. “I won’t Adam, I promise. You won’t lose me.”

Broad shoulders shuddered as Adam righted himself, wiping at his eyes with his fist. “Thank you,” He whispered, kissing Lance’s forehead. “I love you, Lance.”

“I love you too.”

The candle next to them flickered, the wax burning low to the ground. Adam sighed and picked it up, giving Lance a wry smile. “I guess that’s my cue. I’m glad I got to see you, Lance. Be careful at the market tomorrow, and pick something up you want for Sunday. I won’t want to cook after walking all that way. Rax will be by before sunrise to help you; Shay’s stayed in Balmera. Their grandmother is still healing from the attack.”

“Right, thanks, Adam. Do you want anything specific?” He asked.

“Some pastries from Hunk. God, I’d kill for a pastry right now.” Adam rolled his neck and Lance laughed.

“A bit hungry?” He asked, looking at Adam’s scowling face.

“Yes, I forgot most witches in Olkarion are vegan. I haven’t had anything with meat, cheese, eggs or  _ flavor  _ all week. I’m telling you, you would have hated coming with me.”

“I’m sure I would have,” Lance agreed, thinking of how damn boring their food must be. Adam patted his shoulder and pulled him into another hug, crushing Lance to his body.

“I love you,” Adam repeated.

“I love you too, old man, now go, before we both need a necromancer,” He joked, making Adam laugh.

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you on Sunday. Close your eyes.”

Lance took one last look at Adam before doing so, hearing him whisper a soft spell before blowing out the light of the candle.

* * *

In the morning, Lance was brushing Red when Rax walked through the glamour and onto their land, his horse and cart behind him. The sun’s light had barely started to show over the horizon, but by the time they reached town, the market would already be in full ride. Lance smiled over at the taller man, patting Red before walking over to him.

“Hey Rax, it’s good to see you,” He greeted.

“Likewise,” Rax replied, though he didn’t look too happy about it. He never did, his face was always cast in a permanent scowl, though Lance supposed being the only man in a family of females could cause that. More reason to worry. “Are you ready?”

“I just need to get a few things from inside, could you help me carry?” He asked, leading him inside when he nodded. Jars of jams were packed into old milk crates, labeled by flavor and date. He also had bottles of wine and rolls of cheese from Adam, as well as his own fresh fruits and vegetables. The trip to the market was important, and as much as Lance wished Adam was there to barter- he swore his mentor was the master of bartering -he figured he’d have to learn how to himself. Hefting up a crate, he looked to Rax. “How’s your grandmother?”

“Getting better,” Rax said, his voice sounding relieved. “Shay and I were worried. Not that we couldn’t handle our own, but we didn’t think it was her time to go yet. And she agreed. Baphomet was a bit confused to see her, and told her she wasn’t set to die for at least another 30 years.”

Laughing, Lance hoisted the crate up onto Rax’s cart. Recently, his family had come under attack by a witch hunter, one who nearly took their grandmother’s life. Balmera was usually so peaceful, known for being the most tolerant of the two races, so the news shocked witches across the land. If Balmera was falling to hunters, did the rest of them have hope? Luckily, Shay and Rax were able to wound the hunter’s companion enough to save their grandmother and get away. Still, the stress made the 21 year old look 40.

“Hey, that’s the good thing about being witches; extended lifespan!” Lance said, making Rax huff out a laugh.

“I guess you’re right.”

The pair moved Lance’s crates to the cart quietly after that, strapping everything down once it was loaded up. The first peaks of gold light shone over the horizon as Lance led Red to the cart, strapping her in alongside Rax’s horse. Clicking for Blue, he helped her up onto the driver’s bench.

“Ready to go?” Rax asked, holding his hand out to Lance to help him step up. Smiling at the behavior, he nodded.

“Ready-”

A booming sound echoed across the air and Lance gasped. It was shrill, the cry of a wounded animal but higher, discordant and inhuman sounding. Birds retreated from the treetops as something crashed through the underbrush, tumbling down the hill and rolling through the glamour and onto the land of the cottage. Rushing over, Lance saw a red fox laid on the ground, an arrow shot through its stomach. He knelt next to it and rolled the animal on its back to see a grey skeletal face and glowing green eyes. Sharp teeth gnawed at the air and it cried again, just as deafening as before.

“A familiar,” Rax said, looking up to the treeline. “They’re coming for it, quickly!”

He held his hands out to Lance, palms glowing with gold light. Giving Rax his hands, Lance closed his eyes and listened to the whispered spell over the dying familiar.

“To the realms of Baphomet, I send my plea. I ask for the power of protection from thee. Protection from all who would raise a hand against them all I beg the power to stand,” He whispered, squeezing Lance’s hands. The teen opened his eyes to see Rax staring intently at him. “Don’t move.”

Footsteps crunched through the forest and Lance’s eyes darted up to see a hunter, standing at the crest of the hill. He was an intimidating force, skin as pale as milk and broad as a bull. Stormy eyes scanned the slope, no doubt searching for the fox he’d shot. He turned a little and a glint around his neck caught Lance’s eye. A cross, shining and silver, hung around his throat. No… looking back at his face, Lance saw a scar across his nose, deep and jagged, as if claws had marred him. A witch hunter. And with the description Adam gave him, it appeared to be the very same hunter who’d nearly killed him. Grey eyes looked over him and, for a second, it felt like the hunter could see him. Like the glamour wasn’t there, that he was open for the world to see.

“Did you find it?” Another voice, a different one, called from inside the treeline. The eyes moved away from him and the hunter turned around, boasting a quiver of arrows on his back.

“No, damn thing vanished. Probably went back to its owner,” The hunter called, heading back into the woods. Rax didn’t move, still holding Lance’s hands until the air was calm, no disturbances from anything living.

When they dropped hands, Lance looked at the familiar, its chest barely rising with breath. “Rax… what can we do?”

“Nothing,” He said somberly. “You know the only person that can heal this familiar is its witch. The best we can do is keep it within the glamour until it passes.”

“But, we can’t just let it die-”

“Lance,” Rax cut him off sternly. “I know you want to help it, but it's out of our hands. I’m sorry.”

The familiar cried, softer this time, green eyes searching. Shushing it, Lance bent down to its level, hand stroking the soft red fur.

“I know, I know. It’s okay. You served your witch well, I know you did,” The familiar cooed. “Yes, it’s okay. It’s okay, you were a wonderful familiar. You were wonderful. Go to Baphomet now. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”

The eyes of the familiar stopped searching. Instead, they focused upward, on the ever coloring sky. Crying out once more, the familiar fell still, the gleam slowly fading in the eyes of the animal, until blank, black irises stared upward. A tear fell from Lance’s cheek onto the red fur and he placed his hand on its belly, slowly pulling the arrow from its gut. Glowing gold blood dripped from the arrow and Lance shouted, snapping it in half and tossing it to the ground. This poor familiar… it died in cold blood, without its witch to comfort or protect or  _ heal  _ it. A witch hunter did this. And it made his blood boil.

“Lance, we still have to go to market,” Rax reminded him, touching his shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Moving robotically, Lance let Rax lift him onto the cart and jolted when the horses began walking. Blue purred and crawled into his lap, standing on her hind legs to rub at his cheek with her own.

_ “That was a good thing you did, Lance. The familiar- his witch named him Samuel -spoke to me as he died,”  _ She told him, making Lance huff.

“What did he say?”

_ “He told me I was lucky to have you. That you radiate so much light, he wasn’t afraid to finally pass on,”  _ She licked his cheek.  _ “That when he reached Baphomet, he would sing your praises.” _

“He deserved a better death, Blue. He didn’t deserve to die that way,” Lance spat, making his companion chuckle.

_ “If familiars got what we deserved, we’d all be slaves to Baphomet in the afterlife. I think this is a much better way to be judged. Not based on our physical actions, but how we serve his children. In a way, this is our baptism.” _

Lance nodded and scratched under her chin, looking out across the landscape. He supposed Blue was right. Familiars were the spirits of the first human race, the ones who destroyed the land that Isla so dearly loved. When they died, Gaia decreed they would be enslaved, forced to work for all eternity in the afterlife with no end. But Baphomet, still feeling sympathy for the lost souls of the false God, gave them a choice. They could stay on the land they’d destroyed, but confined to the forest of Varadero, awaiting a witch to come. And when a witch did come, the pair were bound, as master and servant, until the time came and both the witch and familiar died, or the familiar died and the witch formed a new bond. Should the familiar serve the witch well, with pride and reverence for the witch’s life, they had the chance to be reborn as a witch themselves, a second chance at life on the planet they’d once desecrated. But should they abandon, harm or, Gaia forbid, kill the witch themself, they would be enslaved and tortured by Baphomet, for all eternity.

Maybe dying for your witch was the ultimate martyr move for a familiar. Maybe Samuel could come back now. The thought brought a smile to his face.

“Well, I think you’ll have the opportunity to come back, Blue.” He told her, making his familiar purr.

_ “Maybe. But I’m not too worried about that yet. You have a long life ahead of you, and I’m certainly not going to be the one who kills you.” _

Lance laughed at that. “Thanks, Blue.”

The market was already bustling with life when they arrived, about an hour later than Rax had wanted to. Stepping down from the cart, Lance noted the familiar vendors around them, smiling when one clapped him on the shoulder with a hearty laugh.

“Lance, good to see you! Where’s that brother of yours, I was looking forward to him stripping me to the bone for a block of cheese!”

“Hi Sal,” Lance greeted, taking down one of Adam’s crates from the cart. “Adam isn’t here, but he sent me in his place to take all your profits for the week. Hope that’ll suffice.”

Sal laughed deeply, shaking Lance’s shoulder a bit. “Good on you kiddo! Let me see what you have.”

Surprising to himself, Lance was able to make a good chunk of change from bartering and selling his and Adam’s goods. Rax sold off his own things then went in search of potion ingredients, leaving Lance to take his small bag to Hunk’s family bakery. The crumbling stone building sat on a busy street corner, people bustling out, holding freshly baked bread and flaky pastries the bigger boy had perfected himself. Even the air around it smelled of vanilla, and Lance took a deep breath before ducking inside.

Hunk was handing a small bag to a customer when he entered. “Have a good day, Keturah. And tell your mom I said hello.”

The small girl nodded, placing two bronze coins on the counter before Hunk. “Thanks!” She turned to rush out the door, bumping Lance on the way. “Excuse me.”

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” He assured her as she burst out onto the city street. The witch then turned to his friend with a smile. “Hi, Hunk.”

“Hey Lance,” Brown eyes shone at him, and strong arms pulled him into a hug as he rounded the corner of the counter. Hunk smelled of flour and cinnamon and was warm to the touch. A large hand patted his back and Lance reveled in the hug, the closest thing he had to Adam without his mentor being there. “How’ve you been, man?”

“Fine. Faring well on my own,” He said honestly, looking back at the kitchen door. “Can we go sit?”

“You go back, let me close up here,” Hunk invited him, waving him back. Pushing open the heavy wood door, Lance entered the kitchen. It was small and yellow in color, with beautiful orange stone trimmings. A small wooden table sat near the staircase leading up to their home above. Over a small fire, a tea kettle whistled. Lance took the kettle off and set it aside, getting into a cabinet and pulling out a few tea bags. He poured himself and Hunk a cup and sat down, looking up when his friend came in, taking off his apron. “What do you have for me?”

“A block of cheese from Adam, some cranberries and your favorite!” He unpacked his bag, showing Hunk a few fresh plums. His friend sighed happily and took them, smelling one.

“Thank you. These are going to be great for the holiday season,” He put them up. “How’s your week been? My parents were half expecting you to show up at our door, saying you burnt the house down.”

“I wouldn’t have done that! I know not to try cooking without Adam there,” Taking a sip of his tea, he sat back in his chair. “I’m fine. Had a weird morning though.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it,” Hunk sat across from him, stretching out his long legs and wiping his forehead with a hand. Lance looked down at his mug.

“A familiar was shot and fell into our glamour. I had to help it pass over,” He said quietly, still feeling a bit upset about it. “By a witch hunter.”

“A witch hunter? Near your house?” His friend sounded a little worried about it. “We haven’t had many hunts in Altea since we were kids. Since, uh…”

“I know. Since my failed execution,” Lance waved a hand. “But yeah, it was a witch hunter and, not just any witch hunter, the very same one who tried to kill Adam.”

“Dude… you should stay here tonight. I don’t want you out in that house by yourself if there are hunters lurking around,” Hunk took his hand, making Lance smile.

“Yeah, okay, I could do with a sleepover. I miss your mom.”

_ “Aren’t you forgetting something?”  _ Blue purred from his basket, tail flipping around outside of the lid. Confused, Lance looked down at her.

“What?” He asked, Hunk looking down at the cat. He couldn’t hear her, but he could understand when the witch and the familiar were communicating.

_ “Your regular midnight excursions? If you sleep here tonight, you’ll be skipping out on Keith. And I think, and if I remember correctly, you would only miss it if you were dead?”  _ She reminded him. Lance bit his lip. Ah, shit, he would be skipping out on Keith.

“Hunk, I actually can’t. I have, uh, prior arrangement,” He stammered, making Hunk raise a suspicious eyebrow. “I met someone.”

“Huh?”

“I met someone, and I’ve been meeting him at night. I don’t want to worry him if I don’t show,” He explained, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Lance, buddy- I want all the details, by the way -I’m sure he’d understand. I don’t want you going out unprotected. Please, my parents miss you and so do I. You can have the bed if you want, even! And your little lady gets the queen’s treatment,” Reaching down, he rubbed Blue’s head, who purred loudly. She always loved Hunk. “It’s just one night. Then you can head back to your mystery man.”

His friend wouldn’t drop this, he knew. What’s one night, right? Sighing, he nodded his head and smiled.

“Okay, Hunk. I’ll stay here tonight. Thank you.”

The bell in the front of the shop rung and Rax called out for them. “Hello? Hunk? I have letters from Shay.”

Blushing, Hunk got up and gestured for Lance to come with him. Entering the front of the shop, Hunk smiled at Rax, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. Even though Shay was his girlfriend, seeing Rax always made the bigger male uncomfortable. The witch radiated power and energy, he was a strong target for witch hunters. It was why he’d taken his grandmother’s attack so seriously; he blamed himself. Standing a head taller than Hunk himself, he dug in his bag and pulled out a few envelopes, wrapped together in twine. All were addressed to Hunk, Shay’s beautiful cursive unmistakable. With a pleased sigh, Hunk took the letters.

“Thanks, Rax.” He traced the ink of Shay’s letters, a fond smile on his face. “How’s your grandmother?”

“Getting better,” He closed the flap of his bag and looked to Lance. “Ready to go?”

“Actually,” Lance looked at his bigger friend. “I’m staying here tonight, and I’ll head back in the morning. I’ll come unhook Red and bring her to their stables.”

“Red?” Hunk asked, chuckling a little. “What is up with you and naming your animals after colors?”

“I’ll explain later,” He waved his hand at his friend, looking back at Rax. “Okay?”

“Alright… try and get in contact with Adam, let him know you’re here tonight,” Rax nodded at him and straightened up his bag. “I’ll tell Shay you said hi, Hunk.”

“Thank you, Rax. Have a safe trip back.”

The two teens watched as Rax and his cart disappeared into the distance, Blue rubbing against the teen’s legs. His familiar looked up at him with shining eyes, a small smirk on the cat’s face.

_ “Are you sure Keith will understand?”  _ She asked, tail flicking.  _ “You didn’t give him a word of warning.” _

“Blue, it’s one night,” He answered her. “He’ll be fine.”

He hoped.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith has his secrets as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this update two months late? Yep! Am I still going to post it? Yep! Does anyone even care about this fic anymore? Nope! But I do, so I'm here. Welcome back! This chapter took me entirely too long to write, and I'm still not even that proud of it. Also, it's shorter than the other ones because I am still not sure how to write from Keith's point of view. Anyways! Finally, we're getting to some plot and development; it's not just going to all be making out in a sunflower field, some shit has to go down! Be wary of tags and warnings as we go, and as always, I am un-beta'd and unedited. Thank you for sticking around and reading, and I hope you enjoy!

_ [Keith] _

With a waxing moon hanging high in the sky, Keith sat on the road by the flower field, picking at the blackened dirt under his nails with his blade. Kosmo laid by his side, nose rested on the hunter’s leg, looking up at him with his golden eyes. He seemed to be questioning, asking Keith if waiting was worth it, if Lance was even going to come. The pair had been waiting for hours since right after the sun had fallen from the sky, and there was still no sign of the blue-eyed beauty who’d captivated Keith’s thoughts for days on end. Keith grit his teeth though, focusing on keeping the cool steel of his blade from sinking into his skin. He didn’t need another cut, especially with Lance not there to heal it.

“He’ll come, Kosmo. He always does,” He told the wolf, who huffed and nuzzled under his arm, whining softly. “I know. I miss him too.”

The short week the pair had spent together had made Keith sure of one thing; Lance was nothing short of a God in his own right. He would gladly cast aside his own Lord if it meant he could worship at the feet of Lance for the rest of his life. He’d been considering it, renouncing himself as a witch hunter and taking up the rest of his life by Lance’s side. Sure, he’d miss Shiro, and it would break his heart to leave his brother in arms, but if it meant he would be able to kiss the bare skin of Lance’s throat without fear, he’d do so in a heartbeat.

But this was worrying. Lance hadn’t missed a single night of their excursions together, nor had he told Keith the night prior that he wouldn’t make it. What if something had happened to him? What if he’d been hurt, or robbed, or killed? A chill ran down Keith’s spine and he shook his head, trying to clear the thought from his mind. Maybe he should go look for him? But Lance had been very vague on his home, not giving Keith any indicators as to where he lived. Sighing, Keith looked down at his companion, who’d closed his eyes in rest. A hand found his head and he rubbed the wolf’s snowy fur.

“Should we call it a night, Kosmo? I don’t think he’s coming,” He whispered, his wolf opening its eyes and standing from his lap. With a great sigh, Keith pushed himself up and tucked his knife away in his waistband, letting his wolf lead him home through the misty early morning air.

The first golden beams of sunlight had begun to creep across the horizon when he finally pushed open the door to his and Shiro’s cabin. His mentor sat at their dining room table, Bible open in front of him, a steaming cup of coffee in hand. A candle burned before him and he didn’t look up upon Keith’s entering, turning the page of his Holy Book.

“He didn’t show?” He asked, making Keith sigh and drop his head.

“No. Not tonight,” Unease filled his stomach and he cleared his throat, taking a step towards Shiro. “Listen, Shiro-”

“I get it, Keith, these things take time.” Finally looking up, Shiro met him with a knowing smile. “Not everyone can bind and trap a witch on the first day of meeting them. Sometimes you have to build trust before going in for the kill. I’m proud of you, Keith. And hopefully, that damned mentor of his will show up, and we can make it back to the church in time for the holidays.”

Keith nodded mutely, looking at Shiro’s silver cross, one that matched his own hidden underneath his clothing. The light from the candle made it glow red, like iron from the depths of Hell. Sometimes… Shiro’s eyes glowed like that when he mentioned Lance’s mentor, the one who he’d nearly killed. Slowly, he crossed to his bed and sat down, unlacing his boots. Kosmo hopped onto the small twin with him and settled down at the foot to rest. After stripping to his underclothes, Keith laid out on the bed, looking at the wooden wall of the cabin. His heart felt heavy, and his head was pounding, as if someone inside, trying to break his skull apart. Closing his eyes, he prayed for sleep, for rest, for a way to escape the terrible situation he and Lance were now a part of.

* * *

_ With a gasp, Keith found himself standing in the town square, surrounded on all sides by people. The gallows were full of witches, of all races, genders and ages, their hands bound behind them while the spectators jeered and taunted them. The sky was dark and ominous, thunder rolling overhead as out from the church stepped High Priest Zarkon and his wife. A roar emitted from the crowd as the pair took the stage, much younger looking than Keith had ever seen them. High Priest Zarkon stepped to the front of the stage and held up their Holy Bible, opening it and reading aloud. _

_ “He sacrificed his children in the fire in the Valley of Ben Hinnom, practiced divination and witchcraft, sought omens, and consulted mediums and spiritists. He did much evil in the eyes of the Lord, arousing his anger.” He read, causing the crowd to clap and cheer. Closing the Bible, he tucked it under his arm, the scars and worry lines Keith was used to seeing on his face gone. “All practitioners of witchcraft are sinners, and in the eyes of our Holy Lord, worshippers of the Devil! They must atone for their crimes by death.” _

_ Stepping back, he looped a noose around the first witch’s neck, an old crone, with white hair covering her face. With a flick of the high priest’s hand, the platform underneath her fell out and she collapsed, Keith closing his eyes as soon as the crack of her frail bones echoed across the crowd. Above them, the sky roared with thunder, and a cool rain droplet fell against Keith’s cheek and trailed down his face as if it were the heavens themselves crying. The second witch was a woman, youthful and crying, speaking to the man next to her in a foreign tongue. Her husband, Keith had to assume, by how violently he cried.  _

_ Holding back bile, Keith scanned the crowd to avoid having to see or hear any more of the executions. Standing in an alleyway was a figure, cloaked in black, arms crossed over their chest. Though they were shrouded in darkness, there was a glow about them, red in color around their arms. Furrowing his brows, Keith pushed through the crowd of raucous people, heading for them. From behind him, the hunter heard High Priest Zarkon shout. _

_ “But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars—they will be consigned to the fiery lake of burning sulfur. This is the second death. A child witch, one of our own children poisoned by the life his parents forced upon him. Speak, child. Renounce the demons that torment you and say our prayer. Do this, and I will spare you,” He chided, his tone purring like a wildcat. Turning, Keith saw a boy, no older than 10, with a noose around his throat. He looked up at the high priest with wide brown eyes, opening his mouth slightly. The crowd waited with bated breath, and even Keith himself hoped the child would just pray and save himself. Instead, the child reared back and spit in the high priest’s face, screaming out over the thunder. _

_ “I hate all who I see and hear! Baphomet, hear my plea, help me dred, father! Kill all around me! Bring death and suffering to-” _

_ The high priest flicked his wrist and the child fell, his words quickly turning to choking. Horrified, Keith pressed a hand to his mouth and turned to the alley, seeing the figure turn and walk further down it. Rushing forward, Keith burst out of the crowd. He ran into the alley and heaved, holding onto the brick building as the contents of his stomach emptied themselves. Ahead of him, the figure turned a corner into the now pouring rain. Keith called out. _

_ “H-Hold on!” He shouted, stumbling after them, dark rain falling on the cobblestone streets. The figure moved through a clearing, one where a statue of Keith’s father should have been. They moved quickly and with purpose, turning corners and ducking under low hanging buildings and ledges. With a gasp, they pressed themselves to a wall as a hulking figure of a man walked by, speaking to… Vicar Macidius? The figure stayed still until they passed, rushing across the empty marketplace and up a flight of stairs connected to the outside of a building. Keith knew where he was, he was in the city where he grew up, although everything looked different. Stepping onto the roof of a deep blue building, the figure knelt down and pressed their pale hand to the stone. Under their breath, they whispered something, the stone groaning and changing, indecipherable letters appearing on the surface. Standing up, the figure stepped back and turned, hurrying down the steps, completely ignoring Keith’s presence. They disappeared into the city as thunder rolled overhead. _

_ Slowly, Keith walked to where they’d knelt, squinting at the letters they’d left. They were unreadable garbage, and he sighed, shaking his head. So this whole thing was a wild goose chase. Lightning illuminated the sky and goat hooves appeared before him, black in color and large. Swallowing nervously, Keith looked up. _

_ It wasn’t a man that stood before him, though it had the torso of one. The thing had the head of a goat as well as the legs of one, and it breathed out grey smoke when it exhaled. The Devil. Falling backward, Keith scooted back and away from the beast, reaching for the cross around his neck, only to find it wasn’t there. Lucifer took a step forward, speaking to him in a low, almost smooth tone of voice. _

_ “You cannot stay here much longer, my son. You’ve seen what we have intended for you,” He told him, holding a hand out to Keith, who trembled. _

_ “W-Who are you? Where am I, what does any of this mean?” He asked quickly, looking at the engraving. “Are you The Devil?” _

_ The beast chuckled. “All will be answered in due time. But I am not The Devil, or Lucifer, or whatever you choose to call me by. Come now, son. You cannot stay here.” _

_ Gulping, Keith stood, slowly approaching him. “Where is… here?” _

_ “Don’t you know your own city?” He asked, hand outstretched. _

_ “Well, yes, but everything is so different-” _

_ “Hush, my boy,” He cut him off, taking Keith’s hand. He was warm to the touch, but not burning. Shockingly, when he touched him, the fear that had grown within the teen was gone. “You need to wake up now, Keith. I’ll see you again soon.” _

_ “Wait, who was that person? And how do you know my-” _

* * *

Panting, Keith awoke with a start, drenched in a cold sweat. The cabin was empty, save for Kosmo, who perked up when Keith had shot upright. Swallowing hard, Keith drug a hand down his face, reaching down to pat his companion.

“I’m alright buddy,” He said, more to convince himself. He was okay. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he stood and stretched out, mind racing and confused as to what he had just dreamt. It was vivid and disturbing, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t interest him just a little. Looking out the window, he saw that the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, meaning Shiro was out catching their dinner, and soon would be pushing Keith out the door to meet Lance. He rubbed his upper arms nervously, looking down at his companion, who huffed quietly. “What should I do, Kosmo?”

His companion couldn’t speak, though he let out a quiet whine and pressed his snout into Keith’s leg, making the teen laugh softly. He petted his head as the door to the cabin burst open, Shiro holding a bird by the throat, his wildcat clenching a rabbit in her maw.

“Keith, you’re awake, good. I think you should do a little Bible study before you leave tonight, maybe say a prayer for protection. The last thing we need is the witch figuring out your plan and killing you. I’d hate to have to slaughter them all on my own,” Shiro said patting his shoulder as he walked past. Keith bit the inside of his lip, crossing to their table and picking up the thick leather Bible. It smelled of fire and felt heavy in his hands. He shuddered and put it back down.

“Yeah, about the plan…” He started, sitting down at the table.

“It’s going well, right? You’re becoming friends with him, he’s starting to trust you?” His mentor asked, beginning to prepare and flay the animal he’d caught. Musta laid at his feet, harsh, wet noises emitting from her mouth as she ate her catch. Keith’s stomach turned and he looked away, stifling his vomit.

“Y-Yes, it’s going well but-”

“Good. And lucky for us, I can feel the pull of that damn mentor of his getting stronger. He’s getting closer to us, I can tell. Soon, we’ll find the whole coven and make them beg to be evangelized. Maybe I’ll help a couple of them cross over. But not him,” His voice turned to poison. “I’ll make him watch as you kill his ward, then we’ll finish off his whole coven. And then, only then, after he’s suffered the pain of watching everyone he loves die, I’ll tear him apart.”

Keith flinched at the description. Looking down at his hands, he couldn’t picture them covered in blood. He would never take Lance’s life into his hands like that, he couldn’t ever. Still, he nodded and grabbed their Bible, wanting Shiro to just stop talking about this. 

When the sun had finally sunk below the horizon, Keith had eaten and was dressed to see Lance. Hopefully. He still couldn’t ignore the fearful thoughts of Lance being hurt or dead that plagued the back of his mind. Shiro rubbed his upper arms, trying to comfort him. Even though he had killed before and was proud of it, he knew Keith was still learning, still on his first ever hunt. So he spoke softly to him.

“Listen, Keith, I’m so proud of you,” He chuckled. “I never thought you’d commit to this life, let alone find a witch so quickly. You’re doing great. And I know you’re apprehensive, but soon, you won’t hesitate to kill him.”

“Yeah,” He said noncommittally. “Okay.”

Stepping out into the night brought Keith little relief. Thoughts of Lance being dead, Shiro killing his whole coven, Keith himself being the downfall of him made his nauseated. Relying on Kosmo to lead the way, he followed the wolf down winding dirt trails to the sunflower field, sitting down heavily in the dirt when he arrived. Keith sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, staring out into the darkness where he’d hoped Lance would appear. Where he didn’t appear the night before.

Tonight, he did.

Coming over the crest of a small hill, Lance appeared like an apparition in lavender. He smiled when he saw Keith, stepping gently down to meet him. Keith moved like a man possessed, standing slow and holding a hand out to Lance, scared he’d turn into mist if he touched him. But when the solid warmth of Lance’s skin met his hand, Keith wrenched him forward, pulling them together in a passionate kiss, one of his hands gripping Lance’s short brown locks as if he’d try to pull away. He didn’t, clinging to Keith’s shoulders and pressed his hips to Keith, teeth pulling at the paler’s lower lip. Keith’s hands wandered, one gripping the slim muscle of Lance’s thigh, him getting the memo and letting Keith lift him, legs wrapping around the hunter’s firm waist. When they finally parted, Keith rested his forehead on Lance’s, both of them trying to calm their panting breaths.  _ He was okay _ . His fears of Lance having been hurt were melted away and he brushed his tan cheek with his knuckles softly, causing blue eyes to open and look at him.

“Hi,” Lance whispered.

“Where were you? I thought you’d been hurt,” He replied, thumb rubbing across the freckles spanning across his face.

“I stayed in town with a friend last night. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, it was just sudden.”

“Whatever,” Keith whispered, pecking his lips lightly. “You’re here now.”

“I am,” Lance breathed, kissing Keith’s fingertips as they ghosted across his lips and  _ God,  _ Keith wanted to scream in joy. Lance was okay, he was safe and Keith could ignore the nagging thoughts in his brain. With a hand supporting Lance under his thighs, he carried him into the field and the clearing, kneeling onto the fabric they’d brought days prior. He kissed him, cutting off a soft whine from his partner. Lance held his shoulders, slid thin fingers down over his biceps and squeezed, giggling a little against his lips.

“You’re strong,” He marveled when they broke apart, and Keith tried not to swell with pride.

“You don’t weigh anything,” He retorted, letting Lance’s hands caress him.

“I was thinking… you know what we did a few days ago? I-Instead of having sex?” Lance brought his hands down lower and laced his fingers with Keith’s, face aflame. Of course, Keith remembered, he’d hardly been able to think about anything else besides how breathily Lance moaned in his ear and how stars had exploded behind his vision when he’d finished. Masturbation was a sin under their God, sure, but Keith was a teenage boy once; he knew what it felt like. That? That felt so much better. “Maybe… we could do it again but… less clothed?”

Keith’s cock twitched and Lance giggled a little, no doubt feeling it. “Yeah,” Keith finally agreed.

Leaning in, Lance kissed him sweetly, lips pressed together as if in a challenge. And of course, Keith took it. He was never one to back down from a challenge, especially one as enticing as this. Lance’s hands fiddled with the fastens on Keith’s jacket before pushing it from his shoulders, the cool night air penetrating his thin shirt. Pushing forward, Keith laid Lance on his back and ran a hand up the long stretch of his leg, feeling goosebumps rise in his wake. The smaller man whimpered, spreading his legs for Keith to slot into. He rolled his hips lazily into Lance’s, hands working at pulling his partner free of the long ethereal garment. While Keith worked the fabric over Lance’s chest, his shirt buttons became undone and the offending white fabric was quickly cast aside.

Suddenly, Lance broke free of his lips and screamed, wrenching back and away from Keith, a hand pressed to his chest. Confused, Keith watched him pull his shaking hand away to reveal red, blistered skin. Blue eyes fixated on Keith’s bare chest and even Keith had to look down to see what had caught his partner’s eye. Gleaming there, against pale skin, was Keith’s cross. Oh, God.

“You…” The witch began, tears rolling down his cheeks. Reaching forward, Keith spoke quickly.

“Lance, please, I can explain-”

“Don’t touch me! Blue!” He stood and the cat hopped up into his arms, Lance throwing a hand out in front of himself, palm a pulsating blue. “Ash combine, ash become a barrier in which nothing shall come into the circle; lest they be cursed for all eternity!”

A shockwave sent Keith tumbling forward onto his face, a ring of blue light surrounding Lance and his familiar. Fat tears continued pouring from his eyes and he spoke to Keith with a broken voice.

“How long have you known?” He asked, swallowing hard. Keith stood slowly.

“Lance, just let me explain-”

“How long?!” He screamed, making Kosmo whine lowly. Shushing the beast, Keith looked down at the ground.

“Since the first day. When you put a healing spell on my thumb.”

“Oh, Gods…”

“It was actually my brother who told me,” He reminisced, not wanting to look back up at Lance. If he saw those beautiful baby blues shed any more tears, he’d start crying himself. “I got home and he asked me where Red was, then realized my hand had energy on it. Your energy. I’m… I’m not a very good tracker, on my own. But running into you helped us. He was really happy, told me I was finally coming into my own as a hunter, and that we could complete our mission sooner because of me.”

“What’s your mission?”

Keith swallowed hard. It felt like a stone had lodged itself in his throat. “To kill you, your mentor, and his coven.”

“Adam…” Lance’s voice became more choked and he sobbed. “When were you going to kill me, then? If you’ve known the whole time?”

“I wasn’t! Lance, I wasn’t going to kill you!” He insisted, looking up in earnest. Lance’s face had gone stony in spite of his tears.

“Why should I believe you? You didn’t even tell me you were a hunter.”

“Lance, when I told you I’ve never wanted to harm anything, I meant it. I did, I have never wanted to kill anything or anyone, especially not you. I could never, would never hurt you.”

The cat in his arms meowed and Lance looked down at her, rubbing her head. He then looked back at Keith, unsure.

“How can I trust you, Keith? How do I know you aren’t, aren’t gaining my trust, biding your time until the moment is right to kill me? How can we just… keep going after this?”

Clenching his fists, Keith grit his teeth in frustration. He meant it, he would lay down his current life and take up one as a nomad if it meant he could have Lance. He’d literally denounce the church for him- reaching up, he wrapped a hand around his cross and wrenched it off his neck, the silver chain popping. Then, he reared back and tossed it, far, far off. Next came his bible, the miniature version Shiro always made him carry when going to see Lance. Pulling it from his pants, he opened the little book and tore it in two, then four, then eight. The witch watched curiously, the animal he held doing just the same. When it was destroyed, and got to his knees, looking up at Lance with clear, intense eyes.

“I will leave the church, leave the Blade, leave my brother, if it means I can have you, Lance. I want you to trust me, to want me, just as much as I want you. When you didn’t come last night, I thought you’d died. I thought you’d been hurt and I was worried sick. All I could think of was you injured, and how I couldn’t have helped. I  _ never  _ want to be the cause of your injury, your pain. Please, Lance… I want you.”

Lance looked down at Blue, then released her onto the ground. Holding out his hand, he spoke a quiet spell. “Dark as the night, light as the day, make the barrier fade away. Let it be no more, forevermore.” The shield he’d summoned slowly fizzled into dust, and he gently kneeled in front of Keith. For a moment, he just stared into his eyes, as if trying to find any signs of deception. Keith assumed he’d found none, because he took his hand, lifting it to his face. Pale fingers cradled a tan jaw and Lance sighed, closing his eyes.

“This isn’t going to be easy for you, Keith. I don’t think the church is just going to… let you go.”

“I don’t care,” Keith said honestly, voice rough. “I’ll run if I have to. Anything to be with you, Lance.”

A silence fell between them and Lance leaned forward, resting his forehead against Keith’s, the hot, flushed skin of his cheek brushing Keith’s own. It was a quiet moment, hands clasped, simply breathing in the other’s air. Keith’s heart pounded like a drum in his chest, and he swallowed nervously, not sure where this revelation put them if they had new boundaries.

“We need to wait until my coronation. When I’m a full witch, I can protect us better. And, I’ll become a desert witch, and move to Balmera. We can live there together; they’re much more accepting of witches.” Lance explained.

“What is a desert witch?”

“They’re like wood witches or druids. They live without a coven, usually raising children of wayward witches or playing as midwives. Secluded, solitary,” He rubbed his nose against Keith’s. “Safe.”

“When is your coronation?”

“Next July. After that, we can leave. Together.”

“What do we do until then?” The thought of leaving Shiro made Keith feel terrible. But he knew what his brother in arms would do to Lance… what he may do to him, should he ever find out their truth. He could already see the tears in Shiro’s eyes, and it made his heart clench. He gripped Lance tighter, pulled him closer so their legs rested against one another.

“We have to play it safe. We can’t meet up as often, and we have to keep off one another’s trails. Adam can’t know Shiro is out here, and vice versa. Adam’s been away, but I know his return can’t bode well.”

“No,” Keith agreed. “It doesn’t. Shiro’s been feeling him entering Altea, and I know he’s on the hunt.”

“He’ll be back on Sunday. We won’t be able to see one another until after, probably Tuesday,” Warm lips pressed to Keith’s and he groaned a little, not liking Lance’s words.

“Tuesday? That long?” He asked, lifting Lance by the thighs into his lap.

“Yes, because I know Adam’s energy is much stronger and will pull Shiro out into the open. We need a few days for everything to calm down. But I will see you Tuesday. Meet me by the river, where I washed my clothes. There’s a blessed lake nearby, it should throw off Shiro and Adam tracking us.” Lance whined a little as Keith bit at his neck, bending to expose more of his flesh to him.

“Adam tracks you?”

“Only when he thinks I’m in danger. So a few days waiting- don’t stop, please -will do us some good,” He gasped as a new bruise appeared on the column of his throat. “As long as they don’t meet, we can keep doing this. I don’t want to stop seeing you, touching you…”

“I agree,” Finding his lips, Keith kissed him passionately, a hand on his ass. “It’s only a few months. Then, we can sneak out under the cover of night, and never come back.”

Lance held his face in hand, pulling Keith into another kiss. Between their mouths and quiet noises of pleasure, he whispered something, something Keith only got the back end of. “...thrice around the circle's bound, sink all evil to the ground.”

Pulling away, Keith panted, “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” He whispered, pressing back into him. “Kiss me.”

Who was he to deny such a request?


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things get out, for better or worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOT DAMN I'M ON A ROLL AGAIN. Hello! I've been sick these past few days, but as soon as I was well again, I hopped on my computer and started writing, and banged out a new chapter in one sitting! I also finally wrote down the solid plot and story we're going to be following here. Basically, we have Keith and Lance falling in love as our first plot, we have a secondary plot with all this other shit that I'm not going to spoil, and we have our tertiary plot of Adam and Shiro. Yeah, sorry Shadam people, but that's going to be a very minor detail in this. I have a lot planned. Anyway, right now I am in desperate need of a beta reader! I work much better when I have people to bounce ideas off of- I also write a lot more -so if any of you brave souls want to help me, please say so! I hope you enjoy this chapter because there is still a lot more plot to come; I know, can you believe I've written 7 chapters and almost 50k words of set up? Imagine how this plot is going to go down. And as always, thank you for your comments and kudos! I am unedited and un-beta'd! I hope you like it!

_ [Lance] _

“Did you know?”

Seated at his and Adam’s dining room table, Lance looked over the rim of his teacup at his familiar, who was not so casually avoiding his eyes. Clearing his throat, he gestured for her to speak, and the animal let out a long sigh, stretching out her back legs.

_ “I knew… some.” _

“And you didn’t tell me? Blue, come on,” He set his cup down and crossed his arms, still a little angry about the whole situation. Keith was a witch hunter. The very people that Adam had spent Lance’s whole life warning him about. Beasts of men and women who would stop at nothing to strangle a witch with their bare hands, and would take joy in it. That was Keith, and not only that, his mentor  _ was  _ in fact, the very same one who’d tried to kill Adam. If anything, Lance should have dropped him immediately, warned Adam that there were witch hunters in the area, and went to live with Hunk.

Instead, he found himself doodling the sharp lines of Keith’s face in his spellbook. Roses began to bloom in earnest outside his bedroom window, wrapping around the beautiful stained glass so thick they nearly blocked out the moonlight. His skin still bore red and purple bruises where Keith’s fingers and lips had been pressed in the night. More often than not, he found himself dreaming of Keith, of the dark-haired beauty entering his room at night and deflowering him as Adam slept one room over. Keith sent fire to his belly and power through his veins, as if his very presence made Lance stronger.

But still, Blue should have told him.

_ “Well, it still is all very… confusing. I don’t have much experience with hunters and companions. I had my suspicions, my hunches. But I didn’t want to blow the whistle and be wrong, that he was just an ordinary hunter,”  _ Absentmindedly, Lance rubbed his chest where Keith’s cross had burned him.  _ “But I’m sorry. I should have told you, child. I just got so excited! Getting to experience a young witch’s sexual awakening clouded my judgment.” _

“You know I don’t like it when you say that,” Lance chuckled, sipping his tea. It was late morning, and Lance knew he had chores to do, but he’d much rather gossip with his familiar. Adam would be home later, and probably wouldn’t be expecting a clean house, so he wasn’t in any rush. “I miss him.”

_ “I know you do. But you yourself said this is the safest route. If Adam were to find out about your indiscretion-” _

“He’d set Keith on fire, I know,” He sighed, fingers tracing the chipped rim of his mug. “I just wish Adam would get here, you know? I didn’t realize how actually… lonely the house is. As much as I missed Keith, I think I missed Adam more.”

_ “I won’t tell him you said, ‘I think’. _ ” Blue purred, hopping down off the table. Lance shook his head, looking at the vase of fresh flowers on their fireplace mantle. They were a gorgeous, deep red, colors so vibrant, he’d only ever seen them past Puig. Explaining to Adam that he’d had a change of heart and wanted roses embroidered onto his coronation gown would cause a bit of strain, but his mentor would no doubt give him what he wanted.

Deciding Adam deserved to come home to a clean house, he set to work. He swept, dusted, changed both beds, reorganized the apothecary and made a fresh pot of tea. And as the sun began to fall from the sky, Lance heard the telltale sign of bells. Adam’s caravan. Rushing out the door, Blue right on his heels, he watched as Adam came over the crest of the hill, seated atop their bright blue wagon, Hyacinth perched above his shoulder, head swiveling, ever on alert. Excited, he let his mentor drop the barrier before running to him, smile bright.

“Adam!”

Though his face was weary, Adam smiled just as wide, calling the cart to a stop before jumping down and scooping Lance into his arms, crushing the smaller man to his chest. He laughed a little, smoothing down his unruly hair.

“Lance, I missed you so much,” He kissed his forehead and Lance could feel his eyes welling up. Pressing his face into Adam’s shoulder, he breathed in his scent of pine, ice, and  _ home _ . “I missed you so much, moonbeam.”

“I missed you too. God, the house was so empty without you here.”

They unloaded the carriage and Lance marveled over how many different fruit and vegetable seeds the Olkari had given him. They’d also given him a few different types of crystals, which they immediately threw in their cauldron for purification and blessing. Adam whistled lowly upon entering the house.

“I have to admit, I thought you would have made this place a sty while I was gone,” He joked, sitting down in their small living area. Lance scoffed.

“Just because I like tapestries and books all over my room doesn’t mean the whole house has to look that way!”

“I assume your house would, though, if you were on your own,” Adam provided, glancing up at the roses. “Those are pretty. I didn’t know you grew roses now.”

There was an underlying suspicion in those words, but Lance waved it off.

“They were a gift from Hunk. Do you want a pastry? Those were gifts too.” He asked, heading to the kitchen and pulling a small box from one of their cabinets. Rolling his neck a little, Adam chuckled.

“You know I would. Who would have thought a week without animal products would feel like a year?”

“Me. That’s why I don’t go see the Olkari,” The teen snorted, sitting down across from Adam.

“So, tell me about your week, kiddo.”

And Lance did. He told Adam about his healing of Blue, his trip to the witches well, visiting town with Rax, staying with Hunk; everything but Keith. And it hurt a little. Part of him wanted to jump up and down, scream, tell Adam everything about Keith and how excited he was to have found him. But he knew he couldn’t do that. Try as he might, Adam has some very traditional values. That witches should wear gowns to their coronations, that polyamory is a core value of witches that shouldn’t be shunned, and that witches should remain virgins until their coronation. After that, go wild in the name of Inanna, but before, nothing. Lance wasn’t even sure if Adam had  _ kissed  _ anyone before his coronation. Telling Adam that he’d had bare body pressed against Keith’s-

Blushing, he trying to zone back into what Adam was saying.

“What exactly is it about midwifery?” He asked, finishing off the pastries. “I never pegged you as a go it alone type witch.”

“I don’t know, I just think it would be cool to raise a baby witch or two,” He shrugged, picking at the fabric of his pants. “Plus, I’d get to have my own house, way out from the rest of civilization-”

“And away from covens. Lance, if you go down that path… I can’t protect you anymore. You’ll be on your own, indefinitely, unless you undergo a second coronation.”

“Second?” He blinked a few times. “You can have a second coronation?”

Sitting up, Adam leaned his elbows on his knees. “Yes, you can have a second coronation. But instead of it being a celebration of your loyalty to our Holy Octet, it’s more of a… trial.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, first of all, your second coronation  _ must  _ take place with seven witnesses. You enter Varadero and lay on the altar, nude. From there, you’ll enter the spirit realm. Our Holy Octet will meet you there and will ask you why you’re forsaking one of them to choose a different path of witchcraft. If you have a good reason, they should let you. But if you don’t…” He looked down at the floor. “You’ll be shunned. Outcast from witches as a whole. On the outside. Then, you won’t even have the Holy Octet’s hand over you.”

“Do they, take your powers?” Lance asked, slightly horrified.

“No. But it will be as if they did. You can’t grow anymore as a witch. You can’t learn new spells, cast new circles… anything you’ve learned will stick, but nothing else will. And should a hunter come, not even Baphomet would save you.” Adam rubbed his hands together. “That’s why it’s  _ extremely important  _ that you know what you want to do before you enter the forest. I never want you to have to go back and try again. I knew someone, once, who did and… she came back from the spirit realm old, decaying already, and went to live out the rest of her days in Olkari.”

“But we don’t age until we’re well into our 500s.” Lance pointed out.

Adam nodded. “I know. She’d aged 320 years in ten minutes. So you need to take this seriously, okay? The Octet demands respect, and if you don’t give it to them, or throw their generosity back in their faces… it won’t end well for you. Let’s get some books down and look things over, find what really calls to you so you’re not even one percent unsure when you get coronated.”

Silent, Lance nodded. He wanted to be a midwife, he really did… but only for the sake of Keith. Keith, who wouldn’t live as long as Lance, not without a pretty big sacrifice to Baphomet. One that a witch could only perform once in their lives. Adam hadn’t ever tried to lengthen the life of a mortal… how could Lance?

They spent the evening pouring over Adam’s study, sat on his large bed. Lance loved Adam’s bedroom. The home had originally only been designed with one bedroom, but the Garrett’s had helped in adding an extension for Lance. Still, Adam’s room was immaculate, with high pitched ceilings and a large window, stained with images of the sun, moon, and stars. He had many perches and holes for Hyacinth, who flew into one as soon as the room door was opened, cooing softly.

“I know, girl. We’re home,” He let Lance in and gestured to one of the tall, stuffed bookcases against the wall. “Go grab some and let’s look over them.” He then seemed to notice his changed sheets. “Did you… sleep in here while I was gone?”

Heat bloomed in Lance’s cheeks as he tried not to sound indignant. “N-No! God, I’m not five anymore Adam, I didn’t sleep in your bed!”

“Uh-huh,” His mentor gave him a knowing smile. “Did you want to sleep in here tonight?”

“No! I’ll be fine in my own bed, thank you very much!” Snatching a few books off the shelf, he plopped down on Adam’s bed, Blue hopping up and curling up next to him, meowing up at Hyacinth, who cooed in return. “Quiet, you!” He scolded her, still alit with embarrassment.

It was nice. Studying with Adam, candles burning around them, the air outside filled with the sounds of crickets and coyotes. It felt like it had before Adam left, how Lance had been feverishly pushed into finalizing all details of his coronation before the holidays had even struck. And speaking of coronation…

“Hey, Adam?”

“Mhm?” His mentor hummed, flipping a page in his book.

“Would… it be too much to ask for… red roses on my gown?” Blue met amber and Lance looked away. “I mean, like, embroidered on my gown. I think it would be pretty, you know, the contrasting colors and, well, my birthday  _ is  _ in July, and I just-”

“Lance,” Adam cut him off with a hand on his wrist. “Of course I can do that for you. I’m glad you’re taking some initiative with your coronation now.”

Smiling- good, that was one weight off his chest -he closed his book. “Awesome. Now, can we sleep? I’ve been studying like crazy these past few days and if I read one more word, I’m going to explode.”

“Sure,” His mentor closed his book and began collecting the others. “I’ll see you in the morning, then?”

Suddenly, the idea of being so far from Adam again made him anxious. He’d been laying with Keith at night, and hardly sleeping after when he got home; maybe the warmth of his mentor would dissuade him from saying fuck it, and going out to find Keith anyway. Pushing back Adam’s blankets, he began to blow out their candles.

“Actually, I think I’ll sleep here tonight. For the warmth, you know?” He tried sounding nonchalant. Laughing under his breath, Adam nodded conspiratorially.

“Of course, to keep warm.”

After changing into his nightclothes, Lance laid next to Adam, head rested on his chest like he did when he was a child before they’d had separate rooms and beds. Adam held him steadfast, long fingers running through Lance’s hair. He had to close his eyes to fight back tears because  _ Keith  _ did that, and Gods, he wanted to tell Adam so bad. This man had raised him, become his older brother, his father figure, and Lance was running around in secret, telling lies and leaving his brother in the dark. He clutched Adam tighter and his mentor scoffed softly.

“Did you miss me that badly?”

With a chest that felt made of iron, stone, water, Lance nodded. He’d tell him. He would. Once everything was settled, once he and Keith were far away from here, away from their old lives, he’d tell him.

He had to.

* * *

_ [Keith] _

“Come on Keith, this is what we’ve been waiting for!” Shiro shook his shoulders, excitement nearly palpable in waves as it poured off of him. “His mentor is back, you’re in close with his ward; it’s as if God himself delivered them to us!”

Shockingly enough, Keith couldn’t share Shiro’s excitement. They were training in their yard, Shiro using his blade to hack through trees while Keith practiced his throwing. He was a straight shot with knives, one of his only hunting skills that Shiro was all too proud of. Lance’s mentor- Adam -was back in the area, Shiro had known it the second he’d arrived. He’d woken Keith out of a dead sleep to tell him, and even had planned on going to find him. Lucky for Keith, however, he’d decided to wait until Keith deemed himself close enough to Lance to strike.

“We’ll be back to Kolivan and the Blade by Christmas,” Shiro sighed, swinging his blade hard, hard enough that it sliced cleanly to the center of one of the trees. Keith winced. “Maybe we’ll even get to go up and talk to the queen. I’m sure she’d have nothing but good things to say.”

“Yeah, if she even shows up,” Keith muttered, flipping his blade end over end. His brother sighed.

“She’s a private person, Keith. Witches killed her father and destroyed and kidnapped her mother; she lives in hiding out of fear.” He reminded him.

Keith grunted, “I know. But shouldn’t the queen of an entire country, I don’t know, talk to her people? Show her face once in a while? Maybe give a speech or two? Not just hole up in the castle, afraid.”

A leaf fell from a tree and Keith threw his knife, piercing the center and lodging it into the cracked bark behind. Deadshot, every time. “And what is she so afraid of? I mean, if she’s so scared of witches, why are we here? We’re the ones who hunt and kill them, she should be out in the streets, praising all witch hunters.” Walking over, he tugged his blade from the tree.

“She does praise us! Through our High Priest and his wife. They speak on her behalf, you know that.”

“That’s another thing!” Keith exclaimed, pointing his blade at Shiro. “ _ Why  _ do they speak for her? They’re not palace officials, they aren’t part of the royal guard; why do they get to see her and speak for her, and no one else does?”

“Keith, that’s enough,” Shiro scolded him gently.

“No, Shiro, I want you to think about it. Why would our High Priest speak for the queen? She outranks him by a lot. And, better yet, if she wants to praise witch hunters, why doesn’t she bring Kolivan in and talk to him? Why has no one seen her since my father died?-”

“Keith!” Shiro shouted, cutting him off. “We don’t question the authorities above us, okay? We do as they say because they are the speakers of our Lord. I understand you have questions but not everything has answers. Sometimes things just are what they are.”

Keith stared at him for a moment. How could he  _ not  _ want to know? Their society was confused, secretive and weird. Keith wanted to know why, why things were the way they are and why they seemingly “couldn’t be changed”. Sighing, he turned back to the trees and tossed his blade again.

“I’m sorry I shouted,” His brother spoke again after a few moments of tense silence.

“It’s fine,” Shaking his head, he looked to Shiro, who was rolling his left shoulder, irritated. “Arm bothering you?”

“Yeah,” He sighed, sitting down. “Gets worse every time I move it. I swear, whatever fucking decay spell he put on me, this shit is powerful.”

“Well, he had to be, right? To escape you,” Keith joked a little, sitting down next to him. Shiro chuckled humorlessly, slowly shrugging that shoulder.

“You get it though, right? Why I’m so… anxious to get this guy? I can’t be any good hunting with one arm, Keith,” He reminded him. “I know you’re still… apprehensive. But this, this is life or death with me. How long until I lose this arm?”

“If you do, Pidge can always make you a new one,” Hunters had that problem, of losing limbs. The Holt family were rich with how many new limbs they’d had to craft over the years.

“But it would be so sweet to get him to reverse this curse, so I can be the hunter that killed my prize and kept all four limbs,” He joked back, making Keith smile. “But you get it, right?”

Keith looked to Shiro, watched him wince in pain as he moved his arm, and nodded slowly.

“Yeah,” He finally said. “I get it.”

* * *

_ Keith found himself in the small room his mother had shared with him in the church. It was empty, spare their measly belongings. A sack of clothes, a pitcher from their old cottage, and a chest his mother never opened. He’d stopped asking about it, growing up, but it had always eluded him. Small and purple in color, it boasted a large, silver lock. It was something that Krolia had always hidden in closets or under the bed, out of sight. But it never left her. _

_ Now, it sat on the bed, open. Slowly, Keith walked to it, sitting down next to it. Inside was a heavy black book, bound in leather, brown cord wrapped around it. He picked it up, turning it over and over in his hands. An eight-pointed star was engraved in the front, a looping sign for infinity in the middle. With unsteady hands, he unraveled the chord and opened it. Inside was, as he’d come to expect, words of nonsense, gibberish, unreadable. Sighing, he set the book down. Behind him, there was a gust of wind, and he didn’t have to turn around to know what had graced the room with its presence. _

_ “Why do you keep showing me these things?” He asked, staring straight ahead. _

_ “I am to help you, child.” The goatman told him, making him turn. _

_ “How can you help me when I don’t even know what’s happening? I don’t know what these things are, or how to read any of them,” He picked up the book. “This is useless to me.” _

_ “You’re looking at them through the eyes of others. You must use your own eyes,” He reached out and pressed a finger to Keith’s forehead. “Open your eyes, Keith. Break away from your blinders and see.” _

_ “I am seeing,” He sighed, exasperated. “And I see a wild goose chase that you’re sending me on, here.” _

_ “All will soon make sense, my boy,” His hand drew back, but not before running across Keith’s eyes gently. “Remember, use your eyes, not the eyes of others. It is only when you see that all will fall in line.” _

_ “Will you tell me your name, now?” Keith asked, watching him step back. _

_ “You will know all soon, Keith. It’s time to go.” _

_ And in a breath, he was gone. _

* * *

Sitting up, Keith rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Shiro was on his own cot, summons in hand, reading over it for the thousandth time. Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Keith stood, stretching out his back. He’d been going out every night regardless of Lance telling him not to; it kept Shiro off his back. But now, it was Tuesday, far enough out from Adam’s arrival that Keith could see him again. He was almost giddy, but he kept it in, pulling on his boots and jacket. He stuffed some blankets into a small sack and swung it over his shoulders as he headed for the door. Looking up, Shiro wished him luck as he set off, Kosmo on his heels.

He could see little puffs of his breath as he walked; winter was approaching fast, now. Soon, he’d have to debauch Lance indoors, for fear of his little witch getting too cold outside. Kosmo whuffed and he rubbed his ears, heading down a trail towards the sound of running water. It felt like lifetimes ago since he’d kissed Lance by the river. Who would have known that a single kiss could make Keith feel immortal? Everything about Lance was enchanting; it was sort of depressing Keith hadn’t realized he was a witch until Shiro had pointed it out to him.

The entire world Lance lived in was enchanting. Keith had never realized but… witchcraft was actually pretty cool. Aside from it maybe, possibly being the work of the Devil. Or the goatman. Or whoever he was.

Who was he? Those dreams had become more frequent, more prevalent. Keith saw the goatman many times, and yet he’d never named himself, but adamantly insisted he wasn’t Lucifer. So who was he? Maybe Lance would know. He could ask him more about witchcraft and their religion and see if he could help draw any conclusions from these bizarre dreams.

Coming upon the river, Keith walked over to the edge and looked in, the water reflecting a dim moon above. He’d hoped Lance would come. His entire body  _ ached  _ to hold Lance again; it was like the night he’d stayed in the city, but a hundred times worse.

From somewhere behind him, he heard whistling. Melodic, high on the wind. The tune sounded familiar… a washing song. More specifically, Lance’s washing song. Turning, he watched his witch emerge from the brush, red cloak long and sweeping against the forest floor. He was a rose, a vision in the night.

“Don't you weep, pretty baby. Don't you weep, pretty baby,” He sang, gliding across the clearing to Keith, the hunter transfixed. “You and me and the devil makes three, don't need no other lovin’ baby.”

Reaching out, Lance took Keith’s hands and kissed them softly. Still struck with… something, Keith watched in awe, whispering, “You’re an angel.”

Letting out a soft giggle, Lance began leading Keith down the river’s length, humming the whole way. The cold didn’t seem to bother him, which Keith was glad for as they pushed through a curtain of vines into an area closed off by rock, a large waterfall pouring down into a glimmering pool. Stars shone brighter, even the moon seemed brighter as they sat down along the bank. Lance released him and, as if struck, Keith remembered his pack. Setting it down, he laid out two blankets for them. Lance smiled and wrapped his cloak around the both of them, covering them in warmth. Slowly, Keith pressed his forehead to Lance’s, the witch sighing and rubbing their noses together.

“I missed you,” He allowed himself to breathe. Lance pecked his lips.

“I missed you too.”

They simply sat in silence, no words need to be spoken as they let themselves feel the other again. Keith’s fingers traced up Lance’s thigh and nails found his back, running and tracing along defined muscles. He wanted Lance, he didn’t know what he’d do if their plan didn’t work out if Adam or Shiro found them and demanded blood.

“How is Adam?” Keith asked, making Lance snort.

“Dead asleep. Or he should be, that’s how I left him,” He pulled back, holding Keith’s hand. “I’ve been sleeping in his room, so I made sure I made him some extra strong sleep tea tonight.”

“Why have you been sleeping in his room?” Keith asked he thought Lance had his own bedroom.

“Because he missed me, and I missed him,” Lance shrugged. “But I’ll probably be back in my bed by the end of the week, should Isla allow it.”

Isla.

“Lance… can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Your… religion,” He started. “I don’t really understand it. I mean, I know what it to witch hunters but… what is it really to you guys?”

Biting his lip, Lance bobbled his head a little. “I’ll give you a shortened version. Basically, witches are the sons and daughters of two of our Gods, Baphomet and Isla. We have eight Gods in total; Baphomet, Isla, Inanna, Gaia, Nephthys, Sunna, Juno, and Diana. They’re called our Holy Octet, and eight is our holiest number. Most covens either have eight people or are multiples of eight, our eighteenth birthday is when we’re coronated, and so on. Our powers are a gift given to us by Isla, and to thank her for them, we spend our lives revitalizing and protecting the Earth she loves.”

That… didn’t sound bad. That didn’t sound bad at all, really. Nothing like how the church had always explained witchcraft, as evil, work of the devil, all forced to do and bend to his bidding and command.

“Why do you want to know?” Lance asked, leaning in towards him.

“I was just curious. You know, if I’m going to run away with a witch, I should know your culture,” He reasoned, making Lance smile and kiss him.

“Well I appreciate your interest, baby,” Oh, Keith liked that name. Reaching out, he wrapped his arms around Lance and pulled him close, dipping him into a deep kiss, their first in many days. It felt like coming home after a long journey. Yielding under him, Lance let himself be laid back, hands already pushing at Keith’s clothes. Letting him do as he wishes, Keith slid off Lance’s tunic, already moving for his drawstring pants.

Laid bare together, Keith looked down at Lance’s skin, mapping out freckles and lines, pressing kisses to any and every place he thought deserved them. And there were a lot. Lance giggled and sighed as Keith’s lips trailed his stomach, hands gripping at pale shoulders.

“What are you doing?” He breathed as lips ghosted across his sensitive cockhead. “A-Ah-”

“Do you want me to stop?” Keith was always, always aware of Lance’s boundaries and rules. He had to be a virgin for his coronation, he knew that… but he wasn’t aware of what would make him not a virgin. And neither was Lance. So when those teary blue eyes met his and he shook his head no, Keith went back to pressing light, wet kisses along the length of his cock. Every part of Lance deserved a kiss, he reasoned. Lance whined quietly, thighs trembling.

“Keith,” He whimpered as Keith took him into his mouth. “Ah!  _ Ooh… _ ”

He’d never done this before, but based on Lance’s thighs around his ears- and God, what a perfect place for them, as if they’d ever belonged anywhere else -and his breathy moans climbing in volume, he figured he was doing good. Slowly, he brought his head further down on Lance’s cock, a bit shocked when the teen came in his mouth. Dutifully, Keith swallowed, not wanting to make a mess on his witch. The taste wasn’t terrible, he decided. Pulling back, he looked at Lance’s red face, tears still brimming long eyelashes. He cooed softly.

“You look so pretty,” He told him, making him whine again.

“You, you,” He couldn’t even think of a comment, pushing Keith into sitting and climbing into his lap. Pressing their lips together, he wrapped a hand around Keith’s member and stroked, making the hunter grunt. Lance’s tongue slipped over his and he bit at it, making the witch yelp a bit. When he pulled back, his mouth moved to Keith’s neck, leaving Keith to gasp and groan for his partner’s entertainment. He groaned out Lance’s name as he came across his hand, watching Lance’s little grin reappear. Their foreheads together, they basked in the afterglow of their orgasm, Keith pulling Lance’s cloak further around them.

Soon, they’d run away. They’d run away together and never have to sneak out, run around behind people’s backs and lie again. They could get married, even! Maybe. Witches were pretty loose with their morals, as the church would say, meaning that men and women, women and women, men and men, and even multiple people could all be married. He’d have to ask Lance. They’d have a home, a life together, far away from Shiro, the church and-

“Lance?”

Turning hazily, Lance looked to the entrance of the grove, Keith following suit. A man stood there, cloaked in teal, glasses perched on his nose, a white owl on his shoulder. Owl? Oh, shit.

“Adam?” Lance asked, looking much more cognizant now, pushing Keith behind him and wrapping them further in their cloak. “It, it’s not what it looks like!”

“Get the fuck away from him,” Adam glowered, honey-colored eyes alight with fire. Oh, God, Keith was going to die. The older man stalked over to them, pulling Lance up and away from Keith, leaving him bare to the world.

“Adam!-”

“Lance, what were you thinking? Running off in the middle of the night with some, some guy? What if he raped you? What if you weren’t a virgin for your coronation?” He asked, pulling Lance towards the exit of the grove. Then, two yellow eyes lit up the vines, and Keith swore that God had it out for him. “What the-”

“Get back!” He shouted as Shiro burst through the covering, blade drawn and ready. Adam stumbled back, confused before fury flashed over his features.

“You!” He shouted, tossing up at hand. “Mother Isla, giver of life, lend me your protection against all harm. Shield me from all evils that might be around!”

A flash of teal exploded out from the pair as a bubble of protection covered them. Musta howled and the owl crowed loudly. Keith rushed to Shiro, who looked a mixture of shocked, confused, and excited.

“Keith, they’re here, now’s our chance! Kill him!” He shouted, looking at where Adam was speaking furiously to Lance. Swallowing hard, Keith shook his head.

“No! No, Shiro, I don’t want to kill him!”

“Keith, you have to, now is the time, kill him!” He ripped his coat off and put it on Keith, already moving for Adam. Quickly, the smaller man stepped in front of him.

“Shiro, you have to listen to me, I’m not going to kill him-”

“Get out of my way, Keith!”

“No!” He shoved Shiro back a little, chest heaving. “I won’t let you hurt them!”

“What has gotten into you? Stand back then, I’ll do it!”

“Shiro, no you won’t!”

Lance’s voice cut out above everyone, screaming into the chilled autumn air. “Be quiet! I freeze you all to be bound by this spell, unable to move a single inch! As I will, so mote it be!”

A wave of blue rippled across them and suddenly, Keith was frozen. And so was Shiro, mid-raise of his blade. Even Adam was stuck, looking at Lance unhappily. He spoke with an agitated tone.

“Go on then. What do you need to say?”

Panting, Lance turned to face Keith. “Adam, he isn’t going to hurt me. He promised me, he threw his cross away; he wants me. He isn’t out to hurt or kill me.” Keith could feel Shiro’s gaze boring into him. He was glad he could only move his eyes. “He wants to be with me, and I want to be with him. I don’t want to be in some coven or have a wife if it means I can’t have Keith.”

“His mentor tried to  _ kill me,  _ Lance. How can you trust a man so closely related to evil?” Adam demanded.

“Keith isn’t like him! He couldn’t hurt a fly! I had to put his horse down for him because he couldn’t do it. If he can’t kill a horse, how could he kill a person?” With a sweet gaze, Lance walked towards Keith, holding his hand out to him, his palm a pulsating blue. “Come here.”

His body unfroze and he stumbled over himself, walking to Lance and taking his hands. His witch cupped his cheek and kissed him.

“I want him, Adam. And if I have to leave you, leave everyone I know for him,” His voice got quieter, choked. “Then I will. I’ll have to.”

He turned back to face Adam, effectively blocking Keith from him. And Keith did the same, facing down a red-faced Shiro.

“Seal be released, seal be untold, seal, unfold,” He whispered, the spell breaking and their respective mentors finally moving. Shiro stared at Keith intensely.

“Is this true? You were going to run away with him?” He asked in disbelief. Keeping his head high, Keith nodded.

“You’re my brother, Shiro. But I can’t live this life. I’m sorry.”

The four of them stared on, not speaking. Keith feared for his life, that Shiro may kill him on his path to Adam. Instead, his brother tossed his blade to the ground, unable to meet Keith’s eyes. He was conflicted, Keith could tell. It brought him just a small amount of hope, though, that Shiro was conflicted about it. Adam, behind him, sighed.

“Baphomet, help me. Okay. Okay,” He agreed, making Keith’s head swivel.

“What?” Both he and Lance spoke.

“Look, I can’t say I’m one hundred percent on board with the whole,” He gestured between them. “Witch and witch hunter romance story, but I’d rather have Lance in my life with you than without.”

“Really, Adam?” Lance asked, sounding shocked.

“But there are going to be ground rules. Starting with no more midnight meetings, sneaking out without a chaperone. From now on, there is  _ always  _ a chaperone, also known as me,” Adam said, making Shiro finally speak.

“As if I’m going to let Keith go with two witches, alone,” He spat at Adam. “Why shouldn’t I chaperone?”

“If I ever catch you alone with Lance I will rip your brain out through your nose,” Adam shot back, making Lance groan in frustration.

“Both of you can chaperone, there!” He offered. “Though I don’t know why we need one in the first place, Keith’s an adult and I’m almost one.”

“Because someone needs to protect your purity, Lance,” Adam reminded him, holding out a hand. “No more midnight meetings. We meet in the day, with all four of us there. We can meet at the old barn house. You know where it is, Keith?”

“I do,” Shiro gestured to Keith. “Come on. Tell…  _ Lance  _ goodbye and let’s get back to the cabin.”

Turning, Keith faced Lance. Leaning in, he whispered in his ear.

“That could have gone much worse,” He reasoned, making Lance giggle.

“Yeah, but now we have to be babysat. Not much better,” Reaching down, he took Keith’s hands, lacing their fingers. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Yeah. And now we aren’t running off to do it.”

They met in a gentle kiss that was quickly called off by Adam. Sighing, the teen witch walked to Adam and waved to Keith as they disappeared into a cloud of teal smoke. Turning to Shiro, he felt his soul drop a little at his hurt, conflicted expression. He spoke tightly as he picked up his blade.

“Come on. I think it’s time we… had a talk."


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conflict arises between Shiro and Keith, and Keith wonders if he can trust his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! Here I am again with another late chapter, but hey, I got it up, right? This chapter is a little more plot-heavy, we have more things going on besides just Lance and Keith making out. I swear, we have like, two more chapters of fluff before shit goes down and things get heavy. So if you came for the plot, hold on, and if you came for smut, sorry! Anyway, this chapter is shorter than the others, but I think it has a lot going on and should be satisfactory. I have big plans for this and I want to try and keep writing it, even if we do go on hiatuses and such. As always, mind tags and warnings, and I am un-edited and un-beta'd. Enjoy!

_ [Keith] _

If Keith didn’t know any better, he’d say the Devil had possessed Shiro. He moved like a machine as they headed back through the forest, Keith dressed and head down. Kosmo pressed his muscled body into Keith’s legs as if he was to protect Keith from Shiro. It was a sweet gesture. They came upon the cabin as the moon sunk low in the sky, Shiro holding open the door for Keith. The simple action felt like a threat now, and he kept his hand on his blade as he entered, ready to use it should he need to fight for his life.

He took a seat at their dining table, watching as Shiro removed his jacket and cloak, hanging both by his bed. Musta angrily paced the floor, growling, and hissing at Kosmo, who barked back at her. Keith placed a hand on the wolf’s head, shushing him quietly. Heavily, Shiro sat across from him, placing his blade on the table, the purple emblem glinting. They lit no candles, and Keith was a little thankful for that. The moonlight made the anger rolling in Shiro’s eyes a little less threatening. For a while, they simply stared at one another. Clearing his throat, Keith broke their silence.

“I’m sorry, Shiro.”

Shiro’s jaw tensed and he crossed his arms with great effort, boot tapping against the rickety table leg.

“I don’t know what to say to you, Keith. I feel like I don’t know you.”

Gulping, Keith responded, “Maybe you never did. Maybe you always saw the person you wanted in me. Not who I actually am.”

“Who you are?” Shiro responded, eyebrows furrowing. “And who are you, Keith? If you aren’t Keith Kogane, son of Clayton Kogane, the most famous witch hunter to date, who are you? Did you not receive the same injection as me? Did you not recite words from our Holy Bible, receive a heavenly companion, did you not sweat and fight alongside me? Did you not call me your brother, sleep by my side and tell me you loved me? If none of  _ that  _ is who you are, then tell me, Keith; who  _ are  _ you?”

“I don’t know,” He muttered, looking down at his hands.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know, Shiro,” He spoke clearer, looking back up at him. “I never had the experience you did. My eyes didn’t go white, I didn’t feel fire or hear the Lord, or any of it! I didn’t become strong and powerful, I didn’t gain the ability to hunt witches but I  _ lived _ . I didn’t die after the injection like I probably should have. I’m alive, and I’m in this, this weird state of not really a hunter but not really a civilian; I don’t know who I am, Shiro. And maybe I’m letting my father down by saying this, but I know one thing I’m not. I am not him. And I am not a witch hunter. And if you hate me for saying that, if you want to kill me for it then fine. Go ahead. But I will  _ never  _ be the ruthless killer you want me to be, Shiro. And you have to accept that.”

Shiro’s hand shot out and grabbed his blade. Keith had his own just as fast, and the two men stared each other down. Even though the air was cold, a beat of sweat rolled down Keith’s temple. He didn’t want to hurt Shiro. He wasn’t even sure he could. Shakily, he tossed his blade to the floor, the knife skittering across the wood before coming to rest by Musta. The wildcat looked at the blade and rested her head, having been interrupted in her nap.

“Shiro, you’re my brother,” Keith whispered, hoping Lance could forgive him for dying. “I love you.”

There was a tremor in Shiro’s wrist. He looked into Keith’s eyes, arm trembling. His face bore many emotions; anger, guilt, resentment, and sadness. Groaning, he slammed his blade into the table, handle sticking upright. Standing, he pushed his chair back so hard it fell, crashing to the floor. He then grabbed his cloak and wrenched open the door, slamming it on his way out. Keith released a long, shaking breath, wrapping his arms around himself. He’d probably ruined his relationship with Shiro. Standing, he walked over to his cot and disrobed, laying his head down. He stared at the door, wondering if things could ever be the same between them. If Shiro would ever forgive him.

Sleep did not come easy.

* * *

_ Keith found himself in a forest, surrounded on all sides by enormous trees, so tall they blocked out the sky. The leaves were changing colors, a masterpiece of oranges and yellows painting the air and forest floor. In a clearing to his left was a stone altar. He really didn’t want to be bothered with this right now, he really didn’t. From out of the brush came two people, one cloaked in black, the other in purple. Silver runes and symbols ran down their backs. He watched them approach the altar and place a basket on the flat stone, both kneeling down. The air shifted, and two figures appeared behind the altar. One Keith was very familiar with, the Goatman. The other was a woman, with long, dark hair, and a silver headpiece, draped with jewels and moons. She wore a silky gown of blue, decorated with golds, oranges, and yellows throughout. Her skin was tanned, like Lance’s, and her eyes glowed gold. Keith had no idea who she was, but she had to be one of Lance’s goddesses. And she was beautiful. _

_ Bending down, she looked into the basket and gasped, removing what was inside. She held the bundle of black fabric in her arms, looking between the kneeling couple. Leaning over, she lets the Goatman look at the bundle. He nods and speaks to them, voice as calming as Keith remembers from his other dreams. _

_ “It is a dangerous time for your child. But you have done well,” He tells them. “In the loving marriage of a half-witch and born witch, Isla and I will return to give our blessing upon them. Together, the half-witch and born witch will take the throne, and will bring peace to your tortured kingdoms, and usher in a new age of freedom for mortal and witch kind. Your Holy Octet will once again roam the Earth we so love, under the watchful eyes of our chosen rulers.” _

_ “However,” The woman- Isla, Keith assumed -spoke. “The half-witch must be raised mortal. Only then can they truly understand the struggles of the mortals. Should they be raised as a witch, then our prophecy cannot come true, and we will have to choose a different babe.” _

_ “And our child?” One of the kneeling people, the one in black, asked. “What will become of him?” _

_ The Goatman stood taller. “I predict death, at the hands of the mightiest blasphemer. Should he not realize his prophecy in time with our plan, he will hang like a dog.” _

_ “No,” The other person breathed. “What can we do?” _

_ “Your husband knows the way,” The Goatman assured them. “And he will see to it that all is in line for our return. Right?” _

_ “Right,” The person- man -in black nodded. “As you command it, so mote it be.” _

_ Isla laid the bundle back in the basket, fingers tracing the woven edge. “He is beautiful.” _

_ “Thank you,” The person in purple said. Taking the Goatman’s hand, Isla blew the babe a kiss before they disappeared, vanishing into the fall air. The couple stood, picking up the basket once more. Keith watched them turn away from him, the man’s hand on the other’s shoulder as they disappeared into the brush. Slowly, he sat down, staring at the altar. He spoke out into the air, hoping the Goatman hadn’t gone far. _

_ “Who am I? Who were those people; why are you showing me this?” _

_ The air whipped around him and leaves blew up from the ground, forming the man’s familiar shape. He spoke no words, instead turning towards the clearing. He pointed to the altar where the babe had just laid, and Keith got to his feet, slowly padding into the clearing. The air was cold and he shivered, looking at the stone altar. Nothing. Shaking his head, he went to turn, when a flash from the ground caught his eye. Kneeling, he picked up a brass skeleton key, fashioned with an eight-pointed star on top. It was heavy in his hand as he stood, looking back to the leaf Goatman. _

_ “This?” He asked, holding up the key. The figure nodded. “Do I need to return it to them?” _

_ The figure shook its head, disintegrating back into the ground. Frustrated, Keith shoved the key in his pocket and kicked the altar. _

_ “Stupid Goatman.” _

_ The ground rumbled and birds flew overhead, cawing down at Keith. Ah, shit, he probably shouldn’t have done that. The leaves around him began swirling, wrapping up and around his body as birds swooped closer, inches from his face. Throwing his hands up, he shouted, stumbling backward until he hit the altar, falling to the ground. Black, gold, and orange flashed in front of his eyes, and above the noise, he heard the Goatman. _

_ “Use your eyes, not the eyes of others. It is only when you see that all will fall in line.” _

_ A bird came swooping at his eyes, and he screamed. _

* * *

Shooting upright, Keith gasped, hand clutching his chest. Kosmo looked up at him and whined, making the teen sigh shakily.

“I’m okay buddy,” He whispered, patting his head. Across the room, Shiro sat at the table, reading his Bible. Turning a page, he didn’t look up at Keith as he spoke.

“You’re awake, good. We have a meeting with Adam and Lance today, and you should bathe.”

“Huh?” He asked, swinging his legs over his bed and stretching out.

“I warmed up some water, it’s in the tub,” He gestured to their curtained off area in the back of the cabin, not meeting Keith’s eyes. “If you’re going to meet Lance for some… romantic excursion, you should be clean. Go, before your water gets cold.”

Smiling, Keith nodded and stood, grabbing some soaproot and a small towel. “Thanks,” He said, not wanting to push his luck with Shiro’s despondent quiet approval. His mentor nodded stiffly but said nothing else as Keith went to bathe.

Behind the curtain, he shucked off his tunic and went to pull down his pants, before noticing an extra weight in them. Turning out his pockets, he watched as a key tumbled to the floor and collided with a clang. No… bending down, he picked up the brass key, the same key he’d found in his dream on the forest floor. He glanced at Kosmo, who stared at the key intently. Confused and bewildered, Keith grabbed his tunic and pulled out the drawstring neckline, looping the cord through the key. He tied it around his neck and, somehow, a wave of calm rushed over him. It was the exact opposite feeling his cross had given him. While his cross had always made him feel tense, like a hypocrite, this made him feel safe. Natural. Real.

Shaking his head, he stepped into the tub. The water was lukewarm at best, but it was a gesture well taken from his mentor. Maybe he and Shiro would be okay. Things would be tense, sure, but they’d be alright, somehow. Who knows; maybe that prophecy the Goatman and Isla showed him would come true, and the four of them could all live without fear of one another or the church.

It was a fool’s hope, but it was all he had to hang on to.

Getting dressed was weird. Wearing his hunter’s clothes while he was no longer considered a hunter felt strange; still, he draped his black cloak over his shoulders and laced up his boots, the same as Shiro. As he glanced up, he noticed Shiro staring at him.

“You okay?” He asked, standing upright. Shiro crossed to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

“I… I’m not on board with this whole idea. The idea of you with a man, especially a witch, it makes my stomach turn,” He looked ill as he said it, and Keith nodded. “But you’re still Keith. As different as it feels now… you’re my brother. And if either of those witches tries to hurt you, I’m not hesitating this time.”

“I know,” It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t like Keith had expected perfect, anyway. But it was a gesture. And it counted. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Shiro patted his shoulder before stepping back. “Anyway. Let’s get going. I want to scope the place out before they get there, so I can find places to use to our advantage, should we need them.”

The barn was a decent walk from the cabin, situated on farmland that had long since been abandoned. Unlatching the heavy metal lock, Shiro pushed open the doors, setting free a few birds that had been caught up in the rafters. Inside was as expected, dusty floors, a hayloft with a ladder, a storage room for firewood. There were a few chairs scattered about, some tipped over. Picking one up, Shiro stationed himself by the door, sitting down and crossing his arms heavily over his chest.

“I don’t want you out of my sight, okay? Who knows what those two might still be planning,” He told Keith, making the teen shake his head in exasperation.

“Right.”

Footsteps crunched outside of the barn and the pair of hunters looked out as the witches approached. Lance smiled big when he saw Keith, waving excitedly. He looked beautiful- as he always did -and jogged up to Keith, a basket swinging from the crook of his arm. Cupping his cheek, Keith kissed him softly, Shiro clearing his throat a little to stop them. Pulling away, the teen hunter watched Adam tie up his horse and grab a chair, sitting on the opposite side of the doors from Shiro. They glared at each other, and the owl perched on Adam’s shoulder ruffled its feathers angrily. It appeared that even if they were fine with their wards’ relationship, their bad blood still remained.

“I brought us some lunch!” Lance exclaimed, laying out a blanket. “Since we’re getting ready for the holidays, Adam and I have been practicing some of our favorite recipes; I hope you’re hungry!”

Just as Keith was about to speak, his stomach spoke for him. Sheepishly, he sat down and nodded. “Famished.”

“At least you two get to have a holiday celebration,” Shiro grumbled. “We aren’t allowed to return home until our mission is complete. So at this rate, we’re never getting home.”

“Maybe if you chose a career that wasn’t focused on murdering innocent people, you wouldn’t have that problem,” Adam said, tone sickeningly sweet and obviously fake.

“Oh, you were so innocent when you nearly blinded me?”

“Complain to the multitude of  _ wildcat scars  _ on my legs then come back to me,” Adam shot back, making Lance shout.

“Hey! This is supposed to be civil. We said we’d be civil, Adam,” He reminded his mentor, unloading food from the basket.

“Right,” He said, not sounding too happy about it. “Civil.”

Smiling once more, Lance looked to Keith. “So, we have honeyed ham, sweet potatoes, roasted tomato bread, and a baby Yule log! We didn’t make a full size one yet, this is our first attempt for the year.”

“It smells amazing, Lance,” Keith said, looking to Shiro. “Are you hungry?”

Shiro met eyes with him, then looked down at the food, then up at Adam. “Am I allowed to eat?”

Adam rolled his eyes and stood. “We made enough for four, just get some damn food.”

When they all were served and wine was poured, the quiet was actually comfortable. Lance and Keith spoke to one another while Shiro and Adam actively avoided eye contact. But hey, they weren’t shouting, and that’s all Keith could ask for.

“So, what do you do around the holidays? And what holiday do you celebrate; I know it isn’t Christmas like us.”

Lance shook his head and swallowed. “No, we celebrate Yule, or Fest of Midwinter, if you’re old and traditional like Adam.”

“When you hear it called something your whole life and it automatically changes, then you can make fun of me,” Adam joked, making Keith chuckle a little.

“What do you do for Yule?” Keith asked.

“Well, Yule isn’t just one day, first of all. It starts on the winter solstice and lasts eleven days. During those eleven days, we give gifts to our covens, family, and friends, we harvest our winter crops, we have food and dancing and drinks, and on the last day, all the witches in our area come together and have a grand ritual.” Lance explained, making Shiro snort, looking at the bread he held.

“Sounds like a witch hunters dream. Could take out a ton of you at once.” He glanced at Lance. “What do you do at the ritual? Sacrifice someone?”

“No,” Lance said, sounding softly horrified. “We don’t kill any living thing unless necessary for our survival.”

“In fact, Lance is very good at necromancy, bringing things back to life,” Adam informed Shiro. “Maybe he could do that for your humanity.”

Shiro glared at Adam, but Keith cut him off before he could speak. “ _ Anyway,  _ what do you do at the ritual, Lance?”

“Um, we all wear white, and we light a fire out in the woods, usually at sunset. And we take the bad energy, negative potions and such, from the year, and toss it in. We do have a sacrifice, but it’s always bread or wine. Never anything living.” He explained. “Then, at midnight, we douse the fire and purify ourselves by jumping into the witch’s lake.”

“That sounds interesting,” Keith said honestly, smiling at his nervous lover and taking his hand. “Maybe when we’re living together, you could show me?”

Lance whispered, “I’d love that."

“But in the meantime, I could get you a Yule present,” He offered, trying to extend an olive branch into Lance’s culture. “If you’d like that.”

“I would!” Lance exclaimed, nodding and moving closer to Keith. “And I could get you something! What’s something you want right now, something you’d love to have?”

Keith thought on that for a moment. It would be inappropriate to say some time alone with Lance because God if he hadn’t missed those pretty legs wrapped around his head. Maybe another horse? But he couldn’t ask Lance for that, it’d be expensive, nevermind the fact that he didn’t want another horse, he wanted Red back. Looking down at Lance’s form-fitted shirt, he had an idea.

“A new outfit,” He said, fingers tracing Lance’s cheekbone.

“Really? That’s all you want?” He asked, sounding a bit shocked. “I can do that! And Adam can help me, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll help,” He waved a hand at Lance.

“What about you?” Keith asked, squeezing his lover’s hand. “What do you want?”

Lance looked down, gnawing his lip in thought. His fingers twitched in Keith’s and he clicked his tongue.

“Maybe… a ring.”

“A ring?” Keith asked, confused and intrigued. “Okay. A ring.”

Looking up, Lance still had his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Leaning forward, Keith pressed their lips together, his own teeth tugging at the soft, pink flesh. He was the only one allowed to do that, he decided. Lance sighed against his mouth and cupped the back of his neck, fingers playing with the shaggy hair at the base of his skull. Feeling bold, Keith swiped his tongue over Lance’s lip and jumped at the approval, pulling Lance closer as he traced the familiar map of his mouth. Someone clapping twice interrupted them though, and Keith released Lance’s lips, both turning to face Adam.

“I think that’s enough for today. Lance, tell Keith goodbye and let’s get back, we have chores to do,” He raised a brow at the younger witch. Sighing, Lance climbed off of Keith’s lap, beginning to pack up their things.

“And Keith, we should head into the city for a report,” Shiro told him, making Adam freeze.

“A report on what?” He asked, fingers twitching at his side. Standing, Shiro met his gaze. Adam was taller than him. Huh.

“It’s been a month. We’re due to report back to the church our current status, findings, and progress. Keith,” Shiro gestured for him. “It’s a long ride out, and I want to be back before tomorrow. Let’s go, tell Lance goodbye.”

Nervously, Keith reached out and took Lance’s hand. He didn’t know if they were due to report back, he didn’t know what Shiro was planning. Maybe he’d turn Keith in and have him killed. He kissed Lance’s hand and stood.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” He whispered, hoping it was true. Shiro nodded to Adam as they left, heading back to the cabin for Shiro’s horse.

They saddled up the black mare and got on together, Shiro telling Keith they needed to find him another horse when they were in the city. He just nodded, feeling like he was going to meet the damned Devil. Or Goatman. Whoever he was.

The ride felt much shorter than it probably was, and soon, they were plodding onto the cobblestone streets of the city. The pair swung down to the ground, walking the horse into the church’s stables. On the training ground were recruits, sparring with one another as Thace, one of their elder hunters, oversaw them. They looked like babies to Keith. Children, fighting one another with blades and fists… swallowing hard, he followed Shiro into the churchyard.

The grey stone building looked menacing as they entered, pushing through dark wooden doors into the sanctuary. Haggar stood at the end of the aisle, in front of the Eucharist altar, back facing them. When the doors swung shut, her head rose slowly, her croaking voice calling out to the two men.

“Hunters Kogane and Shirogane. I trust you return with good news?” She asked, turning to face them. Somehow, the old crone looked worse, face a sickly blue color, liver-spotted hands clutching a jagged walking stick. “Come with me. I will take you to the high priest and your leader.”

Her steps were labored and slow, but the two followed her down a long hallway, stopping before the high priest’s chambers. She knocked lightly, the booming voice of Zarkon calling out for them to come in. Shiro opened the door and the three of them entered the room.

The high priest sat at his desk before a stained glass window, Kolivan in a chair. Candelabras lit the room tersely, making Keith’s hair stand on end. It felt like someone had tied weights to his entire body, he felt as if he needed to fall to his knees in agony. Still, he stood tall, facing the high priest with ferocity. If he was to die, he’d die with dignity.

“Hunter Shirogane. Hunter Kogane. Welcome back,” High Priest Zarkon greeted them. “Was your journey troublesome?”

“No, your holiness,” Shiro said, stepping forward. “We are here to give an update on our summons; to the border of Altea and Puig, to find and wipe out a coven, an adult witch and his teen ward.”

“And what news have you brought? Have you found them?” Kolivan asked, looking between the two men.

Keith’s entire body was on high alert. It felt like the key around his neck was a beacon, calling out to everyone in the room to look at him. His body felt ancient and sluggish, while his mind raced. A cold chill ran up his spine and he nearly felt the hand of the Goatman on him. Why was he here? Didn’t he know these people were about to  _ kill him?  _ If the Goatman was here, and if he was a part of something nefarious, couldn’t he put Lance in danger? His eyes drug to Shiro, who swallowed hard. The smaller hunter’s hand inched for his belt; he’d need his blade in a second’s notice. He could probably take down Haggar, and maybe Kolivan before Shiro or High Priest Zarkon stopped him.

Closing his eyes, he prayed.

_ Goatman, I don’t know if you can hear me. But please… I need help. _

“We’ve found nothing, your holiness. We killed a familiar, but even its body seemed to vanish,” Shiro reported.

All of the breath rushed out of Keith at once. Shiro… didn’t rat him out. He didn’t tell them he’d basically cursed their institution and religion. He swallowed hard, trying to bypass the knot in his throat. That was the most fear he’d ever felt, second only to when Shiro had gotten the injection. Kolivan looked confused.

“Shiro, you’re one of the best trackers since Clayton Kogane, what’s going on?” He asked, stepping towards Keith’s brother. Shiro kept a stone face, eyes not betraying the turmoil his soul surely was feeling.

“I haven’t felt anything since we’ve arrived. No witches, at least. The familiar was a lucky shot,” He lied, arms folded behind his back, where Keith could see his fingers tensing and relaxing. “We’re under the impression that we will spend into the New Year searching. After the holidays and the worst of the snowfall, we will return for another update.”

“This is highly unusual, Takashi,” High Priest Zarkon stood, his height intimidating, his voice a low storm. “You’ve only ever lost one witch, the very same one you’re hunting now. We expected you to serve his head on a platter.”

“I understand, your holiness. But if my senses are not telling me where he is, I cannot track him. I will continue my efforts and see to Keith’s training as we continue our summons.”

The room fell silent. Keith felt his knees quake though he stayed upright, staring straight ahead at the stained glass window. With a mighty sigh, High Priest Zarkon settled back at his desk, flicking his hand at them.

“Very well. Continue your hunting in the name of God, and may his heavenly hand guide you towards salvation,” He said. With a small bow, Shiro turned to leave, Keith following behind him. Haggar watched them go, stopping Keith with a hand on his wrist. For a frail, sick old woman, she was strong, grip unyielding.

“He who conceals his transgressions will not prosper. But he who confesses and forsakes them will find compassion,” She hissed, bringing her face close to Keith’s. “You cannot hide from the Lord, child. He will find out all.”

“Keith,” Shiro called to him. “Let’s go.”

Haggar released him and Keith scampered off, down the hall and out the sanctuary, running into Shiro’s back when he tossed open the church doors. The older hunter stood stone still, staring at the statue of Clayton in the churchyard. Keith came to his side, not daring speak. He knew the gravity of what Shiro had just done. Lying to Kolivan was one thing, you’d get beat and lose meal privileges for a day or two. Lying to the high priest was something else entirely. It was  _ treason _ . Shiro could go to jail, or be killed for what he just did for Keith.

“He better be worth it,” Shiro muttered, stepping down onto the street. “Come on, you need a horse and a ring, right?”


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance finds himself a part of something greater, but what is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy oh boy. Yet another chapter banged out in one sitting. We are getting into the meat and potatoes now, kids! I'm budgeting about one more chapter of fluff and setup- yes, ten whole chapters of setup, I'm a madwoman -before it all goes down. And I am super excited to get there! I do have a question for you, though, before we dive headfirst into the deep end of plot and death and drama my Gods! If I were to throw in a few chapters from Adam or Shiro's point of view, would that be too distracting? Because right now, I see Klance and the subplot as the most important things, even though I do plan on Adashi becoming a relationship. So, would it be better to throw in a couple of chapters from their points of view between the Klance, OR would it be better to just write a mini-novel of those chapters? They wouldn't be absolutely necessary for plot advancement- I know how I'd work the plot without those chapters- but for those of you who like deep lore and worldbuilding, they'd be more catered towards you. Plus, you'd get to see the more intimate way the pair gets together.  
> Anywho, I thank you for reading and commenting and leaving kudos, I have fallen deeply back in love with this fic and am glad you feel the same way! Stay tuned, and as always; mind tags and warnings, I am un-beta'd and un-edited. Enjoy!

_ [Lance] _

“I hate sewing.” Lance huffed, falling back against the sofa.

Adam chuckled, expertly stitching the dark blue velvet they’d bought. “It’s because you don’t practice enough. I’ve told you; sewing skin and fabric are two very different things.”

“That’s because with skin it’s simple! One long loop and bam, you’re done!” He picked up the muslin from his lap. “And I really can’t just buy Keith a new outfit for Yule?”

“You said you wanted to sew it yourself. More ‘sentimental value’ that way,” He quoted, making Lance groan.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be this difficult,” He grumbled, slowly finishing another stitch. “What do you think of him? Of Keith?”

He tried to sound nonchalant in his asking, but Adam probably knew him too well for that. His mentor hummed, tying off the hem of the cloak he was working on.

“He’s interesting,” He said vaguely, making Lance furrow his brows.

“Interesting how?” The teen witch prompted, making Adam smile.

“When you were growing up, I always pictured you with a wife. Don’t get me wrong, I figured you’d maybe mess around with guys, but never long term. I always saw you with a sweet, mousy witch. Not someone like Keith; hard and domineering.”

“Why is that? You thought I’d be the dominant one?” He asked a little in shock. In actuality, Lance loved it when Keith pushed him down and had his way with him. Some of his favorite memories were of when Keith took control sexually and made his decisions for him. It made his face hot and blood run south.

“I mean, you are pretty outgoing and flamboyant,” Adam reasoned. “I just assumed you’d want a partner who was more go with the flow rather than take charge.”

“But I’m a pretty go with the flow person!” Lance exclaimed, making Adam snort.

“Yeah, like when I tried to get you to move? When you needed your own bedroom, and I suggested we get a bigger house, you stood there and screamed until all the windows in the house started splintering. Definitely go with the flow.” Adam stood and draped the cloak over a hook, keeping it dangling off the floor. Lance’s face flamed.

“I was a kid!” He tried defending himself.

“You were 13.”

Blue snickered in his mind and Lance crossed his arms, pushing himself hard back into the sofa. He knew Adam was right, but he liked the domineering parts of Keith. He liked being told what to do; to a certain extent. He was  _ not  _ a fan of Adam and Shiro’s third and fourth wheeling along on all of his and Keith’s dates. Especially because they were always at each other’s throats. There was no physical violence- thought Adam had flashed a teal hand at Shiro more than once -but they bickered about everything. About the weather, about their respective wards, about holidays and religion and Gods; Lance was near about sick of it. Which was why market day quickly became his favorite day, because although he loved being able to sit between Keith’s legs and work on his Book of Shadows, the constant air of unease never seemed to leave them.

“I’m excited for tomorrow,” He told Adam, who’d set about packing up their things.

“So am I. I want to see if Ryan has been hunting; we need thicker blankets. This year’s winter doesn’t look like it will be kind,” Adam fretted, packing away more preserves in a crate.

“Have you spoken to Gaia about it?” Lance asked, packing up Keith’s outfit. He could continue it another day, Yule wasn’t for another week. Adam clicked his tongue.

“I did pray, and I was given vivid dreams of a snowstorm. So we’ll need a lot of firewood, thicker blankets, and a few more lanterns. I’ve been working on more candles as well.”

Standing, Lance came to help Adam, tying up some of the bouquets he’d grown. Red and white flowers became far more popular during the holidays, he’d found. Some of them held religious meanings to the church. He sighed, carefully laying out his bouquets in baskets.

“A snowstorm? How bad?”

“Very,” Adam sealed off the crate, setting it on the floor with a thud. “I don’t think you’re going to be able to see Keith for a while.”

_ Keith _ . He knew that Shiro and Keith shared a small cabin in the woods, and according to his lover, it was dank, musty and uninsulated. Wooden cabins often were that way; Lance was glad Adam had the foresight to live in a stone cottage. Still… if the storm was going to be that bad, he wasn’t sure he’d want Keith to be out in that place. Maybe… oh, Gods, Adam was going to freak.

“Um,” He started, covering his basket with a cloth. “Do you think that, maybe… they could stay here? Shiro and Keith?”

“Lance, what? I worked on that glamour for months, and you know I still have to charge it every so often. We’re safe here, protected, and you just want to let them waltz in?” Adam sounded incredulous.

“Their cabin is awful, Adam! Their stove is tiny, they have thin wool blankets for heat; they could freeze out there. Please, just for Yule, then they can go back,” He begged, coming around to Adam’s side. His brother took his shoulders, thumbs rubbing his upper arms.

“I get that you care about Keith, but Shiro is still far too dangerous to bring in our house. He could kill us both, Lance, and I’m not so sure Keith would stop him. I’m sorry, but the answer is no,” He squeezed his arms and went back to packing. Lance bounced on his toes, humming.

“Mm, what if Shiro left his weapons? Like, what if he left everything at the cabin?”

“Including his cat that nearly mauled me?” Adam asked snippily, sealing another crate. “Lance, it isn’t happening. Shiro and Keith are going to have to fend for themselves this holiday.”

“But it isn’t right, Adam!” He insisted, grabbing his brother’s arm. “No one should be cold and hungry on Yule; you said it yourself! Yule is about being together and celebrating family and friends, we can’t just leave them to freeze!”

“I said no!” Adam wrenched his arm away, glaring at the teen witch. “I’m doing this to protect you, Lance! The last thing I want is for you to be  _ killed  _ in your own house where you’re supposed to be safe! No, Lance!”

Taking a step back, Lance looked a little shocked. Adam… never yelled. Exclaimed, sure, to get Lance’s attention, but never yelled. Lance turned and rushed up the stairs, going into his room and slamming the door. Blue, from her place on his bed, purred and stood, stretching out her body.

_ “What’s the matter, child?” _ She asked, moving out of the way as Lance flopped face-first onto his bed.

“Adam yelled at me.”

_ “Oh, dear. Adam never yells,”  _ She commented, coming up to rest against his side. Lance sighed and scratched her ears, staring up at the tapestry draped ceiling.

“I know. It’s because I asked if Shiro and Keith could stay with us for Yule. He did not like that idea.” He explained. “But their cabin is awful, I can’t just let Keith stay there in the dead of winter.”

_ “It sounds like our house God has spoken. You know that what Adam says goes. And even I wouldn’t risk sneaking them in here, you know how slick the walls get when they’re icy.” _

“I know,” He said. Maybe they just needed some time to cool down. He could hole himself up in his room until it was time to go to market, then he could actively avoid Adam all day. There were many vendors who wanted his flowers, plus, he had various jewels that people purchased around the holiday season, and paid a pretty penny for, too. Sure, he’d been sharing Adam’s room for a while, but his first night back in his own room could be now. With a soft sigh, he grabbed his blankets and drew them up over himself and his familiar, feeling her settle into him.

“You don’t think they’re dangerous… do you, Blue?”

_ “The smaller of them isn’t. Keith has no ill will, no evil intentions towards us, that I can tell. Shiro, however… he’s confused. His mind tells him one thing, while his heart tells him another. Is he dangerous? I don’t believe so. But unpredictability can be harmful. Out of his confusion may come fear, and doubt. That is when we should beware.”  _ She rubbed her head into his hand.  _ “But should he become a threat, I will always protect you, my boy. And should my true form be revealed in that instant, then I will allow the hunters to see for the sake of your life.” _

“Blue… thank you,” He whispered, giving her a soft scratch to the chin. “You’re a good familiar.”

_ “Although I follow the rules Baphomet set forth for us… I care for you, Lance. And I don’t wish to see you die young. Rest now, my child. I’m here.” _ She purred, making him sigh.

Maybe Adam was right. Maybe Shiro was far too dangerous to let into their house still. And Yule was sacred, it would make sense if Adam didn’t want anyone to intrude on that. Maybe Lance was being selfish. He was selfish when it came to Keith, but Adam didn’t understand, Keith didn’t feel like an ordinary lover, he felt like a part of Lance’s very soul. As if they were always meant to be. He’d done some reading on soulmates, wanting to see if it held up in his relationship with Keith.

It had.

* * *

_ Lance awoke in a dark hallway, only illuminated by a torch on the wall. Water dripped somewhere in the black and it was hot, stifling. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, looking around. He didn’t see Adam or any of the coven. No candles were illuminated around him, and no one called out to him from beyond his line of sight. As far as he knew, he hadn’t been called into an astral projection. So where was he? _

_ Somewhere down the dirt hall, he heard a male voice. _

_ “...hurry, we don’t have much time,” The man sounded worried, and footsteps began rushing down the corridor. A light appeared, far away and shaky, as if it were being held by someone running. “Any moment, he’ll show for a house call.” _

_ “Please, I just need a moment to rest,” Another person, a female, begged. _

_ “We don’t have a moment, my love,” Finally, the couple came close enough for Lance to see. They were shrouded in cloaks, despite the stale heat, and the man carried a bundle of cloth in his arms. He watched as the woman removed her cloak, a head of long, black hair tumbling out. She looked shockingly fierce, though her voice was calm. _

_ “I can’t keep running, Clayton. I need a moment,” She leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to her head. Clayton, the hunter. Clayton Kogane. Suddenly, the room felt ten times hotter. He leaned forward and rested a hand on her stomach, stroking the soft swell there. The bundle in his arms shuffled and whined, and Clayton bounced it softly, shushing it. _

_ “Give him to me,” The woman held her arms out for the baby, which Clayton handed over gently. She pushed away the fabric from the child’s face, revealing a small, pale head of dark hair. Leaning down, she pressed a soft kiss to the infant’s head. “It’s alright. You’ll be okay. Your father knows what he’s doing, and he’ll save all of you.” _

_ “No, I won’t,” Clayton corrected her, wrapping an arm around her broad shoulders. “He’ll save us. Should it be allowed, he’ll save us all.” _

_ “What will we name him?” She asked, looking into his eyes. The man frowned and bent down, holding her underneath her calves. _

_ “We can worry about that once we’re sure he’s safe at home,” Adjusting his grip, he carried her towards Lance, sweat glinting on his brow. “And Krolia… if I don’t see him to the prophecy's completion, it’s up to you. Everything is in my journals, follow it through to the end. I love you both more than anything.” _

_ “And we love you. Don’t say that, Clayton. You’ll see him through everything,” She assured him as they hustled by. He muttered something under his breath, and, for a moment, red enveloped the small family. Then it was gone, and they turned the corner, and out of sight. _

_ Lance stared at the place where they’d gone. Clayton Kogane… hunter of witches, slayer of Mother Isla, martyred on the day his son was born, when witches burnt them alive… was this that day? Was this the day that Clayton Kogane died? Anxious to know more, to see more, Lance began moving, walking in the direction of the couple. He’d only taken a few steps when he felt caught like his clothes had become snagged on something. He pulled, trying to head further into the dark, to follow them, when the torch on the wall blew out. Darkness surrounded him and he grunted, trying to rip his clothes free of their trappings. _

_ Behind him, he felt a cool breeze, so cold it sent a chill up his spine. He turned to see nothing, but nevertheless, the breeze blew. Giving up on following Clayton, he walked the opposite way, wanting to see where they come from. With a hand on the wall, he followed its expanse until his fingers met wood. An examination led him to believe he’d found a door. From a quick pull on the handle, he’d found it was locked. But from underneath the door jam, the breeze persisted. Bending down, he squinted his eyes and tried to peer through the crack under the door. The light was low, he saw nothing. But he heard flutes. Quiet, far off flutes. The sound was familiar, somehow… he listened for a long time until the sound petered off into the relative silence of dripping water. He stood with a sigh, leaning his back against the door. Where was he? What was going on? And why did he see… Clayton Kogane? He was confused. He let his head fall back against the door. Whatever was going on, he wanted to know more. Maybe… he could find some books, literature from the church, while they were in town. While not a master of astral projection, he knew a thing or two. Closing his eyes, he thought about his home, his bed, and Blue. _

* * *

Sunlight filtered in through the window, casting red and blue shadows across the teen’s eyes. Grumbling, he sat upright and looked around his small bedroom. Nothing had changed, no visits from spirits or the fae as he traveled. He stood from his bed and dressed, his familiar waking up and stretching out her limbs.

“Blue, did you have any weird dreams last night?” He asked her, swinging a deep blue cloak over his shoulders. Purring, his familiar hopped down from his bed.

_ “None that I can recall. Why, did you?” _

“Yeah,” Lance said, bending down and lifting her into his arms.

_ “Tell me about it,”  _ She prompted. As Lance opened his mouth to speak, however, Adam called up to him, telling him it was time to leave. A pit of dread sat in his stomach as he descended the stairs, setting Blue down to pick up some of their merchandise.

The pair loaded their cart in tense silence, Lance avoiding making eye contact with Adam on the small chance that he’d yell at him again. It wasn’t that he was afraid, more upset now. Adam had been in love before, Lance remembered. When he was younger, they’d had another man living with them, a witch by the name of Curtis. He and Adam were deeply in love, and they’d even planned on getting married. And he’d been allowed into the house. Sure, he was a witch and Adam had been 20 at the time, but still! He knew how it felt to always want to be around someone, to always need them close. How could he turn Keith away when he himself made Lance feel whole?

They boarded the cart and set off, Lance watching the scenery as opposed to speaking like he usually did. Bare trees stared back at him, a light layer of frost dusting the grass in the early morning. His breath blew out in small plumes, but he wouldn’t get under the blanket with Adam, no matter how blue his lips turned. Winter had arrived. Lance had become fond of winter now. Though everything was dying, it meant a rebirth was coming. Spring would soon turn and so would the year, which meant Lance was ever closer to his coronation.

His coronation.

In the fuss of Keith and their new lifestyle, he’d forgotten about his coronation. Soon, he’d choose one of the Octet and follow their way of life for the rest of his. It was stressful. If he and Keith weren’t going to run away together, then there was no need to become a druid. The only viable choice he’d accepted was gone now; what was he supposed to do? He could be a healer, like Adam, but he didn’t feel a connection to Gaia in the way Adam did. Recently… he’d been called towards Isla.

Lance didn’t know many witches who were focused under Isla or Baphomet. As the mother and father of witches, their worshippers were most usually coven leaders or prophets of the Octet. They bore many risks, as their energy was usually strong and commanding; an enormous target for witch hunters. Worshippers of Isla and Baphomet typically many, many children, for the sake of furthering witch kind. And Lance felt called to Isla. Could he lead a coven? Start one of his own and leave Adam’s behind? It was a scary thought but… the Octet was not typically wrong.

The cart came to a stop in town and Lance hopped down, beginning to unload his items. Adam assembled their stall while Lance joked with the locals, all who were brave enough to venture out on this cold of a day. Soon, they were open and selling, Adam heckling prices and Lance losing bouquets by the armful. It was a monotonous silence they worked in, but honestly, Lance preferred it.

Shoppers dwindled and the teen found himself counting his coins. He’d made a good amount of money, and most of his products were gone. He felt Adam’s hand rest on his shoulder, and his brother started speaking.

“Lance, listen, I-”

“I need to shop.” He cut him off, picking up his coin purse and basket. “I’ll be back.”

Adam didn’t stop him from going, and Lance disappeared into the throng of people milling about. Vendors peddled last-minute goods and people dug around in jingling coin purses to buy gifts. The streets were lined with candles and pinecones, celebrating the church’s upcoming holiday. His cloak brushed the pinecones and he pulled it in closer to himself, coming upon a small stall piled high with books.

“What are you looking for, my boy?” The vendor asked him.

“Um, do you have any books on Clayton Kogane?” He asked, glad for his hood covering his face. Anonymity was key.

“I sure do, fresh from the Blade themselves,” The man pulled down a thick, hard book. “Goes over all hunter training, from the murder of King Alfor- may he rest in peace -to the present day.”

Turning the book over in his hand, Lance looked at the worn covers. “How much?”

“12 pence, and it’s yours.”

Lance set the coins down and slid the book into his basket, careful not to let it snag. Keith had to have read this book. Everything the hunters believed would be in there… maybe he could understand them better. Maybe Adam could too.

He bought a few more things, another gift for Keith, one for Adam, and a few things for himself before circling back. Adam was packing their things up and looked up at Lance as he approached.

“There you are. I need to do some shopping, can you handle this on your own?” He asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

As he finished loading up their cart, Blue hopped up into his line of sight. He rubbed her head, making her purr quietly.

_ “Now, you said you had a dream and your purchase of The Witchhunter’s Handbook is quite auspicious. What was your dream about, darling?” _ She asked, making Lance nod and bite his lip. Pushing himself up next to her, he settled onto the back of the cart.

“I had a dream I was in these… tunnels. And I saw a man and a woman. They had a baby with them, a little boy. The woman was tired and wanted to rest but her husband said no, they had to go before…  _ he _ arrived,” He explained.

_ “He who?” _

“I don’t know. But the woman, she called the man Clayton. And then they like, ran off down the tunnels. I tried to follow them but I couldn’t. So I walked the other way and I found a door. It wasn’t unlocked but I could hear flutes. Far away flutes. Then I came back to my body and woke up.”

_ “So you astral projected?”  _ Blue asked.

“I didn’t mean to, I didn’t plan on it!” He insisted. “It was like… someone brought me there. Someone wanted me to see it, to know something. But now… I just feel more confused. I don’t know who wanted me or brought me there, and why  _ I  _ needed to see those two. Clayton and his wife. And now Adam has me stressed about my coronation again, and who I’m going to worship-”

_ “Who are you going to worship? We haven’t discussed it in a while.” _

“I… I don’t know. Adam thinks Nephthys, but now… I think Isla is calling me.” He admitted.

_ “Isla? Gaia, help us. Lance, if Isla is calling you, you must tell Adam. He needs to prepare you to lead a coven, leave out and create your own tribe-!” _

“I don’t even know if I want to work with her!” Bells rang from the church tower and Lance stepped down off of the cart, pulling his cloak around him. “All I know is right now, I just want Keith somewhere safe for Yule.”

A man stood on the steps of the church, smiling wide, decked in golds and reds. The crowd clapped upon seeing him, and Lance followed suit, knowing he had to blend in.

“People of Altea, I come with a message from your High Priest. Starting this year, we institute a new tradition in the church,” The crowd buzzed with excitement as a cart pulled up alongside the church. “At our Christmas Eve mass, we will take pleasure in the execution of a blasphemer! And as their dirty blood runs free, we are purified as a nation!”

A cover was ripped back from the cart, revealing two nude women. They were badly beaten and bloodied, chained at the feet and wrists. Lance’s stomach turned as they were drug to the steps of the church and forced to kneel, on either side of the announcer. With that same, sickening smile, he grabbed one of the women by her hair, a bright shade of orange, making her yelp in pain.

“A witch! Our Lord curses witches, and those who would hide their malfeasance,” Slowly, he faced the other woman, who was much larger, a scowl on her face. “One of our own, a witch hunter, seduced by the demonic power of witch kind. She is a traitor, treasonous to her people and queen.”

The man spat in her face and the woman shouted in rage, yanking at her chains. She was wrenched back and struck, making the witch shout in horror.

“No!”

“Silence!” The man struck her, her weakened body falling flat against the steps of the church. “Regard not them that have familiar spirits, neither seek after wizards, to be defiled by them: I am the  _ Lord  _ your God. The blood of these sinners will bless us all. Praise the Lord!”

The crowd was deafening as they cheered, echoing his sentiment. In his arms, Blue rumbled unhappily. Bile crept up Lance’s throat and he turned, running into someone’s chest. Arms held him close as the smell of the forest and home filled him; Adam. He pressed his face into his brother’s chest, trying to ignore the cries of the witch and her lover as they were drug apart. Adam filled his ears with soft shushing, stroking his back to comfort him.

“Come on, let’s go home,” He whispered, and Lance nodded mutely, letting Adam lead him away.

Their exit from the city was silent as Lance stared into his palms. A witch and her lover, killed. She’d differed from the church and was to be killed for it. Is that what would happen to Keith if the church found out? Would his throat be cut for the entertainment of a blood-thirsty crowd? Would Lance have to watch his lover die before he, too, was killed at the hand of the hunters? A shiver ran down his spine and he held back tears, blinking to try and clear his eyes.

White-grey clouds sat on the horizon and the air became thick. Snow was on its way. Next to him, Adam spoke quietly.

“I’m sorry you had to see that, Lance,” He whispered, making the teen shake.

“Adam… they’re going to kill them, the witch and her lover. Her lover, she was a hunter, like Keith. She grew up in that church and was a member of their services, their traditions and they’re going to kill her. No trial, nothing.” His voice trembled and he hugged his arms across his chest. “What if… what if they find out about Keith? What if he’s next, Adam? He could die because of me.”

His mentor said nothing for a while, before digging something out of his pocket. He picked up Lance’s glove covered hand and pressed it to his palm. A golden handle, encrusted with rubies, held a short, curved blade. A dagger. Lance looked at Adam, confused.

“Why…?”

“I… figured that if we’re going to have… hunters in the house, you needed a way to protect yourself that wasn’t your magicks.” He said hesitantly.

Bewildered, Lance turned the blade over in his hands. “R-Really…? You’ll… let them come celebrate Yule with us?”

“If only for the sake of your protection,” He said quickly, adjusting his grip on the reigns. “It’ll be hard to track us if Shiro’s energy is in the house, throwing the field off. Plus, if something were to happen and Keith froze, you’d just mope and cry for months and I can’t have that be your prelude to your coronation. Isla would be disappointed, to say the least-”

Cutting him off, Lance wrapped his arms around Adam’s waist, pressing himself against him. He froze for a moment, then reached up and patted Lance’s arm.

“Thank you, Adam.”

“You’re welcome. Just… promise me you’ll… be careful. If you sense that anything is off, anything at all, run and don’t look back. Go to Hunk’s and seek shelter. Don’t come back for me, or to the house for any reason, got it?” Adam said sternly, Lance nodding in kind.

“I promise. I promise.” He squeezed him again before backing up. “I love you, Adam.”

“I love you too, moonbeam. Let’s just hope Shiro’s had a drastic change of heart.”

* * *

If Lance thought Adam was bad when the coven came over, this was somehow worse. They’d spent days preparing for Shiro and Keith’s arrival; cooking, cleaning, making up beds, doing their typical chores. However, Adam had also been making potions and casting spells like mad. Their entire house was surrounded in salt of all colors, from black to pink. They’d practiced locking and apparition spells for hours, to keep people in and to get themselves out. Even the Garretts were on alert that they could need hostel at a moment’s notice. Adam sat up with Lance the night before their arrival, a bowl of oil paint in hand, painting a series of protection sigils down Lance’s spine.

“I don’t see why I need these if I know all the absconding and impairing spells,” He commented, squirming a little at the feeling of the brush on his back.

“Extra protection,” Adam muttered, concentrating hard. “There. Now, don’t move.” He felt hands on his back, on either side of his new temporary tattoos. “Different in power, same in mind. Of light, dark, and spirit realm, Isla, we are one, and one are we.”

A shudder ran through him as the sigils were activated, and Lance sat up straight, popping his back. “Do you want me to do yours?”

“No need,” He showed Lance his forearm, where his own sigils were painted and sealed. “Go to bed. Tomorrow begins the longest three days of my life.”

Lance spent a long time getting dressed in the morning. Nothing was right to him, and he groaned, frustrated and nearly about to steal from Adam. His mentor wouldn't mind too much, right? From the floor, Blue purred, rubbing her head against one of his outfits. Pulling it from the closet, he gasped. Yes, perfect.

Adam called him downstairs soon after he finished dressing, standing at their kitchen window and looking out.

“They’re approaching. Baphomet, help us all,” Turning, he looked Lance up and down, eyebrow raised. “Huh. I have never seen you wear that outfit.”

“It’s just clothes!” He waved Adam off. It wasn’t, though. The outfit had been a gift from Adam’s coven last Yule, consisting of a sheer white shirt, overlayed with a red wrap. He’d fasted a belt around his waist, though the red hung low, like a skirt of sorts. The pants were tight-fitting and light brown, the look completed with many gold rings and bracelets. He felt beautiful, and he hoped Keith would agree.

There was a knock at the door and Adam, worried, met eyes with Lance, excited. From her perch, Hyacinth cooed softly, and Adam sighed.

“I know girl, and me too,” He assured the owl, walking to answer the door. Keith’s face broke into a smile upon seeing Lance, waving from behind Shiro’s bulkier frame. “Hello.”

Shiro’s gaze was level, snow dusting his shoulders and hair. He held out a basket to Adam. Though his face was blank, his voice was still a bit hesitant.

“Hi. Um… Merry Yule?” He asked, glancing back at the younger witch. Adam, dumbfounded, took the basket and lifted the cover. Peering over his shoulder, Lance saw a bottle of wine, good wine, from the city, as well as two jars, one full of pine needles, and one full of holly. “We weren’t sure what was an appropriate gift, so we hoped that would suffice.”

Adam said nothing, picking up the wine and just marveling at it. Lance, not liking the awkward silence- or Shiro’s worried, constipated gaze -bumped Adam with his arm, making him stammer.

“Oh, uh, yes, this is fine. Thank you,” It took him a moment to move out of the way. “Please, come in.”

The door shut behind Keith and Lance was in his arms, kissing him deeply as Shiro removed his cloak. He pulled away with a laugh, resting their foreheads together.

“Welcome to my home,” He whispered, pecking Keith’s lips again. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Yule, baby,” He responded, hands cupping his waist. “You look radiant.”

“So do you. You always do,” Lance pulled away. “Here, give me your cloak and I’ll show you where you’re sleeping.”

“Ah, Shiro, you’re in the living room, over here,” Adam said, walking him into the little space. “It’s a tight fit, but you’re right by the fireplace and the backdoor…”

They’d layered blankets and pillows for Shiro, making him a bed. He nodded and looked to Adam, a small smile on his face, though it was strained.

“Thank you.”

Tugging Keith’s hand, he pulled him up the stairs and to his bedroom, hanging his cloak by the door. “What do you think?”

“It’s very… witchy,” He said honestly. Lance knew he was right; his furniture was dark and knotted, animal furs laid over his bed and books stacked everywhere. His clothes were shoved into his closet, which was decorated with beads, gems and multicolored glass. He had a large, woven rug that he been worn with time, and candles burned across the room, giving them a little light in the quickly darkening evening. “I like it.”

“I’m glad, because this,” He gestured to his bed. “Is where you’re sleeping.”

“Adam approved of that?” Keith joked, pulling Lance to him by his hips.

“Mm, I may have argued for a few hours. I can be very persuasive,” He moaned, Keith’s lips finding his. They kissed sweetly at first before heat crept into the space between them and Keith sat on the bed, Lance quickly settling onto his thighs. Pulling the band from the hunter’s hair, he wrapped his fingers in it, tugging softly. Keith groaned, hands squeezing Lance’s ass as he flipped them, now hanging seductively over him. “You think Adam and Shiro have killed each other yet?”

“I’m not worried about them right now,” He murmured, bending to bite at the skin on Lance’s throat. “It’s been driving me  _ crazy _ not seeing you marked up.”

“Possessive?” He teased, nails dragging up Keith’s back.

“Just a bit.”

“Lance, Keith, dinner!” Adam called up the stairs, making Keith huff, pulling back to look at his handiwork. His thumb grazed one of the bites.

“Not enough,” He muttered, making Lance chuckle as he sat up.

“Don’t worry, we have three days for you to mark me,” He assured him, taking Keith’s hand to stand to his feet. “You can stake your claim as much as you want, then.”

“Oh, don’t tempt me,” He groaned as they headed downstairs.

Dinner was a quiet affair of bread and stew, the four of them with glasses of wine. Keith and Lance spoke primarily to one another, though instead of the usual air of antagonism that surrounded their mentors, there was now a begrudging acceptance. It was Shiro who cleared his throat to get their attention first, wine glass in hand.

“Adam, I feel as if Keith and I never properly thanked you for opening your home to us,” He said, looking at the older of the two witches. “It was… unorthodox and unexpected, but appreciated.”

“Why unorthodox?” Adam asked, no malice in his tone, instead genuine curiosity. Shiro sighed and set his glass down.

“We, hunters, are taught our whole lives that witches are… evil. The spawn of Satan. You know, people who sacrifice children and animals, use blood to sate your gods and goddesses-”

Lance snorted, “Maybe look no further than your front door.”

“Lance!” Adam scolded, while Shiro looked confused.

“What do you mean by that?”

All eyes were on him. Lance shook his head. “Adam and I were in town last week. And a proclamation came down from the church; on Christmas Eve, a blasphemer would be killed to purify yourselves and your sins. They brought out two women; one witch, and one witch hunter. They’d fallen in love and were  _ both  _ going to be killed.”

“A hunter?” Keith sounded shocked.

“I… did not know of this proclamation,” Shiro said, looking a bit lost. “I, I wasn’t aware that a… a hunter was set to be killed.”

“Yeah,” Lance said, picking up his wine glass. “So, before you accuse us of being murderers, I’d see what’s really going on behind closed doors in your institution.”

There was a silence, tense and pregnant, that filled the room. Keith took Lance’s hand and kissed it, and Adam stood.

“It’s a holiday. Let’s not focus on such negative things now, we are here together to celebrate. Lance, go get the candles, I’ll bring the pastries,” Smiling, he looked between Shiro and Keith. “I hope you saved room for dessert.”

As they cleaned up and headed for bed, Shiro caught Lance’s arm.

“What you said, at dinner,” He chewed his bottom lip, looking conflicted. “You’re right. There are a lot of things in the church I don’t understand. I may never understand everything. But I can’t change years of tradition.”

“Maybe not,” Lance said, staring the man in his steely eyes. “But you owe it to Keith to try. You owe it to yourself. Something is wrong in your church. And I know you aren’t a witch; but if we sense something is wrong, we do not rest until the injustice is found. We owe it to our ancestors, our familiars, our covens,  _ ourselves  _ to keep the balance fair and just. Not to bend like so much corn in the wind.”

“Lance?” Adam said, making the pair face him. “I… was going to make some tea. Would you like a cup?”

“No, thank you, Adam. I’m heading to bed,” Walking over, he gave him a tight hug. “I love you.”

“I love you too, moonbeam,” He said, sounding a little confused and worried. Lance squeezed him one last time before turning to head up the stairs. Behind him, he heard Shiro speak.

“I’ll join you for tea, should you have me,” He offered, making Adam sigh.

“That sounds like a marvelous idea.”

Closing the door to his room, Lance leaned his back against it and sighed, Keith looking to him from where he was undressing.

“Everything okay?” He asked, walking over and taking Lance’s hand. Surging forward, the witch caught him in a kiss, hands clutching whatever part of his body he could reach. That would never happen to Keith. It could never happen.

“Whoa,” Keith breathed. “Not that I’m complaining, but-"

“Let’s go to bed,” He cut him off, hands splayed across his bare chest. “You did promise me that one day, you’d hold me from sundown to sunrise.”

His lover chuckled quietly. “I did promise that, didn’t I?”

Chests bare, candlelight burning low beside them, Lance laid as Keith traced the lines of his face with a finger. His wolf had settled by the window, Blue laid on the pane above him. He was sure Adam and Shiro were still awake downstairs, probably testing to be sure the other wouldn’t react stupidly. As long as Adam didn’t signal for him to run, though, he’d stay here with Keith.

“Hey,” He whispered, making Lance hum. “I know you’re worried about those women. About you and I ending up that way. But it won’t happen, Lance. I won’t let it happen to you. As long as you’re with me, I’ll keep you safe.”

“Me too,” Lance breathed, leaning in to kiss Keith. He had a flash, a memory, in that instant.

_ Lance held his face in hand, pulling Keith into another kiss. Between their mouths and quiet noises of pleasure, he whispered a quiet spell. “Sunna, protect him with all your might, oh Goddess of day and night. And thrice around the circle's bound, sink all evil to the ground.” _

_ Pulling away, Keith panted, “What did you do?” _

_ “Nothing,” He whispered, pressing back into him. He’d be protected, as long as Lance had the spell in motion. Only an act of the Octet or a stronger witch could break the spell. He’d be safe, even without Lance beside him. “Kiss me.” _

Smiling, he wrapped his legs in Keith’s and held him close, resting his head above his heart. Steady, constant, comforting. He’d be okay.

Should Isla allow it.


End file.
